


Discovering Magic

by Artisticfool



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Pureblood Traditions, Religious Conflict
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-20
Updated: 2015-05-20
Packaged: 2017-11-10 09:15:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 30,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/464652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artisticfool/pseuds/Artisticfool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At dinner before the World Cup, Bill does something strange that shocks and angers Molly. What did he do? Why does it make Ron think he's a Dark Wizard? Harry asks these questions and more as he slowly learns things he never knew about Magic, and comes to know and count on Bill during his trying 4th year.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What Happened at Dinner

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work in progress, that means that with no warning it could stop making progress. I will do all I can to prevent that but... well I'm not much of a writer and I'm doing this for my enjoyment. This also looks like it will be a large project... which scares the shit out of me but I really love the concept so I'm going for it anyway. Just a warning.
> 
> The Underage warning is mostly precaution. Harry will not be having sex with Bill while he is underage. But he will be exploring his sexuality which may or may not include other boys his age. Bill and Harry won't be getting together for a few years yet. Harry's too young at the beginning of this story for either of them to consider a relationship together seriously. I'll try to include pre-slash hints to consol your slashy hearts.

Harry didn't think he had ever been this happy. He was away from the Dursleys for another year. He was playing quidditch with his best friend. He was going to the World Quidditch cup. The day was beautiful, bright and the Weasley's were just... perfect. He wished he could just stay here always.

Below him Molly Weasley came out into the yard still wiping her hands on a dishtowel. “Boys! That's enough for today. Come help with the table," she yelled. Ron grumbled but he and Harry quickly made their way to the ground. When Harry came inside the Burrow he saw two young men he'd never met, who were obviously Weasleys. 

He must have been staring because Molly quickly made introductions. “Oh Harry, dear, you haven't met my two eldest. They just arrived, they'll be going to the match tomorrow too. This is Charlie, and this is Bill.” She bustled off.

Charlie was much like the twins, short and thick, with scars and burns on his face and arms. He seemed very friendly though. He hugged Harry, in a way that felt more like a tackle, lifting him clear off the ground and saying how good it was to finally meet him. Harry was left a little breathless. He wasn't used to that kind of physical affection at all. It made him feel nice, welcomed in a way none of Ron's assurances could. It also felt very very odd and he wasn't sure what to do with his hands or what to say. Luckily he didn't have to say anything. He was put down and Charlie was off teasing Ron and making jokes with the twins.

A strong long fingered hand clapped him on his shoulder, the attached arm squeezing him gently but firmly. “He's always like that, energy out his ears.” Bill said fondly. He turned Harry to look at him and smiled. Harry found himself blushing. Bill was tall and thin like Percy, but that's where the similarity ended. He had long hair in a pony tail, and a tooth for an earring, but what Harry noticed most was his very warm blue eyes. “It's very good to meet you Harry. I've wanted to since I heard what you did for my little sister.” Harry didn't know what to say to that. He had done what he had to do, what anyone would have done. He blushed brighter and looked down at his shoes.

Thankfully Bill didn't linger. “Why don't you grab some plates from the kitchen, I'll float the table outside.”

****

Soon the table was outside, expanded and set. Molly followed with several dishes floating in her wake, smelling divine. Everyone sat down, and though no one assigned seats or anything, it naturally fell out that the youngest sat at one end of the table and the oldest the other. Harry had never observed them having any type of Grace or prayer before when eating at the Weasleys so he thought nothing about digging in to the meal along with everyone around him. The table was filled with loud happy chatter.

“Bill! Must you do that here?! We have guests!” Molly obviously didn't wish her whisper to be heard, but the anger he her voice cut through the friendly dinner noise like a knife. Harry looked down the table. Molly looked incensed and embarrassed. Harry looked at Bill but he didn't see anything wrong until he looked at Bill's plate. A thin column of smoke was rising from one corner and dissipating quickly.

“Yes Mother, I must do that here, I must do that everywhere.” Bill looked calm and unapologetic as he began to cut up his food. 

“In my house-” Molly seemed about to continue irately but Arthur put his hand on her arm and said, “Later Molly.” He didn't appear any happier with his son though. He was scowling fiercely. Molly gaped that looked down the table at Hermione and Harry who were watching, and at her other children, who pointedly weren't. The whole table had gone silent except for slow clinks and scraps of cutlery. Stiffening she turned back to her plate and attacked it. After a moment, her voice determinedly bright she asked, “So Charlie, how did that date go with, Adele? You never said.” 

Magically chatter started up again, with no one mentioning the incident. Harry was confused and very anxious. What had Bill done? Even last year when the twins had stolen the car to rescue Harry, though Molly had be yelling, she hadn't seemed even half as angry as she had in that whisper. It reminded Harry all too clearly of Aunt Petunia when the word magic was mentioned. Irrational, furious, offended and frightened. As far as Harry could see he'd only burned up some of his food. Which was weird, and probably rude since Molly had worked hard to make it but... he just didn't get it. And although Harry wasn't really thinking about it, it was ruining his ideal that the Weasley's were a perfect family. When Harry had seen her angry before, he could tell the reason. Her children had done something that had scared her, or could have hurt someone. It made sense, and truthfully he'd been envious, not scared then. He often wished there was someone who would scold him, would care when he screwed up. He wasn't envious now though, this reminded him too sharply of the Dursleys. And like the Dursleys, a part of him wondered if he was going to mess up like Bill, whatever Bill had done, and Molly would look at him in that cold, furious way. Would she make him leave?

Harry couldn't stand not knowing what Bill did wrong anymore. He leaned closer to Ron beside him and whispered, “What did he do?”

Ron looked like he wanted pretend he hadn't heard or didn't understand, but he finally said, “Leave it Harry! I'll tell you later if you want.” Then he turned to Ginny on his other side and talked about the Harpies. 

Harry was left anxious and frustrated. But since the topic was obviously closed he turned to his food and tried to eat. What had been so delicious, now tasted like ashes. 

****

Harry sat in Ron's room, waiting for Ron to finish brushing his teeth. Finally he came in, but regardless of seeing Harry sitting there waiting, he went to his bed. He looked like he had every intention of going right to sleep, ignoring his promise to explain. Harry was not going to be put off a second time. “Ron! You said you'd explain!” Ron grunted and looked rebellious. Harry held his eyes stubbornly. “Gah! Fine. I don't see how it matters now, though. Mum won't let him do it at the table again,” he sighed. He sat back up and looked at his hands, looking embarrassed. “What he did was, Dark Magic.” 

Harry was shocked. Whatever he'd been expecting that was not it at all. Dark magic? At dinner? In front of his family? It didn't make any sense, and Bill seemed like a good guy, not like the Malfoys who oozed with their superiority and malevolence. 

“A couple years ago, just after he graduated and started working for Gringotts, he started hanging out with a bad crowd. They taught him all kinds of messed up shit, saying it would make his magic better or something. Rituals and spells and crap. Now whenever he comes home he gets in a big row with Mum and Dad. They keep hoping that it's just a... a phase or something. That eventually he'll come to his senses. Dad tried to forbid him to do it, but Bill said he was an adult and could practice magic however he liked. Then Dad said he could, but not in his home. So Bill said that he wouldn't be coming home then. Mum didn't like that. Finally, Dad said he'd let him but he made Bill give an Oath that he would never try to teach it to any of us, ever. Still Bill comes home less and less often. We mostly ignore it, but I guess doing it in front of you and Hermione was too much for Mum.”

Harry was amazed and weirdly reassured. At least he knew that Molly wasn't reacting for no reason. Dark magic was serious. Though now that he thought about it, wasn't dark magic illegal? “So... what did he do? Was it some sort of curse?” he asked, but even as he asked he knew that didn't make sense. Bill apparently cast this spell a lot. He'd said he did it everywhere. What sort of evil spell did you need to cast everywhere?

Ron shrugged, “I dunno mate. He's not allowed to tell us remember? I do know I've seen Malfoy do it. Not in the great hall, but once when I saw him eating outside with his thugs, they all did it. In broad daylight! Like it wasn't dark magic at all. Just poof! And set their food on fire.” Ron shook his head in disbelief. “Really mate, that's all I need to know. If dark wankers like Malfoy are doing it, it can't be good.”

“But, if it's dark magic, isn't it like... illegal?” Harry asked hesitantly. He was obliquely implying his brother should be in jail after all.

Ron shook his head, “No. I don't know what it is or does, but I do know it's not illegal. I asked. Same with the weird crap he does. When Bill made that Oath, Dad told him if he ever did any of the really dark stuff, like hurting people stuff, that he wasn't to come home again. No matter what Mum said.” 

Harry and Ron sat in silence after that, each thinking. Before Harry could form another question though, Arthur knocked on the door, “Lights out boys, big day tomorrow.” Ron jumped to put out the lamp, looking relieved. With the light out they heard Arthur's footsteps go down the stairs.

Harry lay in the dark a long time, thinking.


	2. The Dark Wizard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all the reviews/bookmarks/subscribtions! I'm very excited about this story. Ladyroo88's simple review, asking about Hermione's point of view, inspired a great deal of writing. So even the smallest things can inspire.
> 
> One review I need to respond to. Someone was concerned about EvilHarry. This will not happen. At no time will Harry condone murder, torture, or rape.

Chapter 2

The Dark Wizard

The quidditch game was fantastic. Krum's playing had Harry salivating to try some of those seeker moves and the Irish chasers had been amazing. Harry was so caught up he nearly forgot all about last night's dinner incident. Nearly. He couldn't help watching Bill. He looked for the signs he was a dark wizard. He didn't know what those were, but he looked for them anyway. But Bill didn't call Hermione a mudblood. He didn't curse or hex anyone. He didn't even eat babies for breakfast or drink the blood of virgins. It was almost disappointing. He was still the same laughing, friendly, and cool man he'd been before dinner. Molly was cool to him this morning, everyone else pretended nothing had happened. Harry did notice that whenever they ate, Bill left with his food for a few minutes. But no one commented on the strange behavior. Harry was baffled.

The girls and Arthur had gone to bed already but the Weasley boys were still replying the game again and again. Harry wanted to join in but now that he was think about dinner again he couldn't stop. He decided to clear his head and went outside to sit for a while.

The air was crisp and cool in the darkness. He could see lights and green fireworks not too far off but could easily ignore them. He just wanted to not think for a while.

His 'not thinking' was interrupted by the person he was thinking about.

Bill came out of the tent and sat next to him. He didn't say anything at first, seemingly content with the silence. Harry couldn't stop fidgeting.

Bill sighed, "I'm not going to bite you, you know. Or curse you, or use you in a ritual sacrifice." His voice sounded calm but also hurt and resigned. It made Harry feel bad, but he shouldn't feel bad, Bill was a dark wizard! Bill didn't say anything else, and Harry finally took his courage into both hands and asked the question Ron had been unable to answer.

"So what did you do last night at dinner."

Bill looked away from the stars he'd been staring at and looked at Harry. It made Harry feel weighed and measured. Finally he looked away again. "Its a way to give thanks."

"Huh?"

"I know its popular with some muggles, they have something similar. Before they eat they say thanks for the food to their god?"

Harry was very confused, what did prayer have to do with dark magic?

"Each meal I eat I set aside a portion before I eat and cast a spell to burn it, giving it to magic. Thanking magic for the food I eat, for the air a breath, for the magic I use. Everything that I do and have on a regular basis. The belief is that it contributes to magic. I know it makes my magic easier."

Harry was trying desperately to figure out how this was dark magic. It's sounded like a prayer to magic. But that couldn't be right. "That's... weird," he finally said. He didn't know if Bill was lying or Ron was confused but this whole mess was making his head hurt.

Bill surprised him when he laughed. Then he swung an arm around Harry's shoulders and pulled him tight into a one armed hug.

"Thank you, Harry. I know your still confused but I think thats one of the best reactions I've ever gotten." He didn't let go, but he loosened his grip. He seemed to turn serious again. "I'm not a dark wizard Harry. At least not in the way my family thinks, what Ron must have told you. What I am, is a wizard who practices old wizarding beliefs. Religion I suppose, though I'm not talking about a god or gods. Many people call it 'pureblood traditions' when they aren't calling it dark magic. The definition of dark magic has become so very muddled. I'll swear that nothing I believe says Hermione is less of a person than a pureblood, and nothing I practice is something she couldn't do herself."

Harry couldn't stop himself, "But if that's all it is than why was Molly so mad?" He asked indignantly. Religion? That's what this whole thing was about? He was reminded of something Aunt Petunia said, her high thin voice sounding righteous and smug, "Never speak of Religion or Politics at the dinner table."

Bill sighed very sadly. "Because to her it is dark magic. It's bigotry, racism, rape, murder, and filth. You see, while I don't believe Hermione is any less for having muggle parents, many of the wizards who practice the old beliefs think that people like her cause the old beliefs to be forgotten. They also believe that the more forgotten the beliefs are, the less effective they are. To be honest they have some points." Harry opened his mouth to protest. "BUT they go about fixing it the entire wrong way in my opinion. If we could only teach the muggleborn what it means to be a wizard! Let them feel to magic the way I do!If every wizard could just have that respect for magic! Magic would grow and wizards would thrive!" Bill said passionately, he was looking at Harry like he could make Harry believe if he just stared at him hard enough. But Harry was still confused.

Growing up with the Dursleys he saw religion as something that people did to be included in polite society. Vernon only seemed religious when he wanted to condemn someone. He had a great deal to say about whores, gays, and politicians, and not much to say about faith, hope and charity. The only thought Harry had ever had about religion was just to be thankful that the Dursley's thought that he wasn't good enough for church and always just locked him out of the house while they went.

Bill seemed to sense that he was overwhelmed with contradictory information because he gave Harry a wry smile and blushed. "It's very late. In fact it's very early. I think by now even my die hard brothers have gone to bed. We should too." He stood up and reached out to pull Harry to his feet. Before he opened the tent flap though he looked at Harry again. "Harry, if you ever have any questions, you can ask me. I promise I'll give you honest answers, even if they make me look bad. Alright?" Harry nodded. Together they went into the tent. The others had indeed gone to bed and they quickly joined them. They wouldn't get much sleep though, thanks to the death eaters. Soon after the air was heavy with spells, screams and fire.


	3. After the Dark Mark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of canon events take place in this chapter. I've done my best to describe the changes, and the current setting, without rehashing canon conversations or events. I don't want this to be Goblet of Fire re-write. But I don't want anyone lost because it's been awhile since they've read the book. Comments or suggestions would be welcome. Also, please review, even one word reviews would be welcome.

Harry held his wand tightly in his fist. He had either dropped it when running from the tent or someone had stolen it. Either possibility made him uncomfortable. He remembered running through the woods, wandless, with people running and screaming all around him. He never wanted to feel that vulnerable or helpless again. Harry also felt a bit dirty. His wand had cast something called the Dark Mark. Which apparently belonged to Voldemort. He decided that, until he had something better than his back pocket, it was staying in his hand. 

Smoke filled Harry's nostrils as they made their way through the disheveled camp. No cheerful lights or fireworks to be seen. Harry's eye caught on a stuffed dragon kicked up against a tent. It was covered in mud now. He found himself picturing a little boy or girl caught up in the mob trying to escape. Harry's stomach turned as he wondered if the dragon's owner was alright. It didn't even have to be one of the masked wizards, simply a careless person trying to get away. He looked around hoping to see the imagined child safe, and dreading to find them just as mud caked and kicked. Thankfully no child was visible, so Harry forced himself to catch up with the rest of the Weasleys.

The older boys and Ginny were waiting at the Weasley tents. Charlie who was poking his head out, looked very relieved to see them. Percy had a bloody nose, and Charlie a large rip in his shirt, but Bill looked very bloody. He was holding a sheet to his arm, and it was turning crimson. Ron and Hermione rushed to ask questions and explain the weird events with the house elf and the Dark Mark. Harry found he was more concerned about Bill, and went over to see if he could help. 

Bill was listening to the others but he smiled when Harry came over. He carefully lifted the sheet from his right arm and gestured for Harry to hold the sheet. Harry felt his guts roll, the slice was deep and the edges gaped. If Bill was a muggle they would be on the way to the emergency room. Bill looked over at his father then took Harry's hand that was holding the sheet and pulled it higher. The bloody sheet now shielded Bill's arm from view. He looked at Harry then, and Harry swallowed. He felt very nervous suddenly. Bill looked back down, and his left hand swiped at the smeared and pooling blood, creating a clear, red-tinted, space next to the large slice. He dabbed a finger in the already swelling blood. Carefully he drew two crude shapes that looked like random crooked lines to Harry. He was tempted to ask what Bill was doing but kept his thoughts to himself. Bill probably wasn't finger painting in his own blood for fun. Next Bill touched wand to the drawing and then whispered an incantation that Harry couldn't catch. The drawing and the wound glowed gold. For just a moment it looked like the blood was replaced with liquid metal. Harry flinched reflexively, but Bill didn't react. Slowly the edges sparked and evaporated, eating itself inward, until nothing was left, not even a scar.

“Wow,” Harry gasped. He loved magic. 

“Harry could you grab me some bandages? The first aid kit is over by Percy.” Bill asked. Harry looked up at him. Bill didn't need bandages, he'd just healed himself. Bill looked at him calmly, and Harry didn't ask. He went and got a bandage and when he came back he wrapped around Bill's arm, as if the wound was still there. 

“There is a lot of magic they won't teach you at Hogwarts, Harry,” Bill said softly. Harry nodded. Bill's reactions had already told him this was more dark magic. Harry didn't understand how healing was dark, but it had to be, or Bill wouldn't be hiding his use of it from his father.

Safely bandaged, Bill and Harry joined the discussion. Harry ignored Arthur's dark looks sent at Bill when he mentioned dark wizards or death eaters. He also ignored the increasing tightness in Bill's expression, with every dark look. Harry didn't like his new friend being compared to death eaters, and he felt Bill's father should know they weren't the same.

~*~*~

In the morning, after barely any sleep, the Weasley's caught the first portkey home. Molly screamed and cried and held them all tightly in hugs, especially Bill, Fred and George. Harry felt oddly protective when he noticed that, though Fred and George received apologies for her harsh words about their Owls, she didn't have a similar apology for Bill. It seemed wrong. Bill was wounded last night, what if he had been killed? Would she regret her actions then? 

Harry picked up the dropped Daily Prophet. It read, “Scenes of Terror at the Quidditch World Cup.” Harry gripped the paper in both hands and read it quickly. The article was useless though. It babbled about how useless the ministry was, how terrified the masses were, but not one speck of hard facts. Not a word on how many were injured, or if anyone was actually killed. Harry knew for himself there was a lot of property damage. Arthur asked for the paper and Harry willingly handed it over. When Arthur had read it and started complaining about Rita Skeeter, Harry was more disgruntled. He understood that Arthur had to care about his job, but Harry found himself thinking about the muddy stuffed dragon, and just wanted to know for sure if any children were hurt.

Arthur and Percy soon left to help the Ministry and Molly busied herself with breakfast. Harry glumly sat staring at his eggs, not feeling half so hungry as he had on the walk here. 

“There's another article about last night,” Bill said. He had been flipping though the paper since his father left. He began to read aloud, 

> **Riot at the Cup!**  
>  _Late last night celebrations for the remarkable Irish win were harshly interrupted by masked wizards. These wizards dressed similarly to the Death Eaters, including their terrifying bone white masks. Since the Ministry of Magic assures us that all Death Eaters from that terrible time were caught and sentenced we can only speculate who these masked look a likes were. They walked casually among the revelers torturing muggles and setting family tents on fire. One wizard witness says the worse part was hearing them laugh, “Like twas a party!” Needless to say panic seized the crowd. Many wizards and witches ran for the woods clutching young children and loved ones with little regard for anyone else in their way. Countless small and large injuries have been seen at St. Mungo's, ranging from bruises and burns to broken bones. Mr. Caelum Spare is so far the worse injured, with two broken legs and internal injuries. Healers say he will be recovered by tomorrow. In an cruel twist of fate, what stopped this headlong charge was something more terrifying then dangerous wizards run amuck. From the woods where people sought to hide, the Dark Mark --_

“You stop that right now Bill!” Molly said shrilly, cutting him off. She shook her spatula at him, “We don't need to hear that kind of thing at the breakfast table.” Bill nodded and she set another plate of food on the table, taking a seat herself. Still Bill continued to read silently. He only set the paper down when he was done.

Harry found his courage and asked, “Were any children hurt?” Molly scowled, but Bill shook his head. “At least not seriously. It would have been one of the first things mentioned. Which is damned lucky.” Molly swatted the back of Bill's head hard. Harry was unsure if it was for swearing or continuing to talk about the article. Thankfully Harry didn't receive similar treatment. Harry felt a rush of relief. He thought of the boy on the toy broom and the other children he'd seen before the game, they might have been scared, they might have lost toys, but they were ok, and he could live with that. 

Harry changed the subject, “I wish I knew how Winky got my wand.”

Charlie looked at the wand sitting next to Harry's plate. Harry hadn't let it leave his sight. “Do you know when you lost it?” Harry shook his head. He knew when he had missed it, in the woods when he wanted to cast lumos, like Ron and Hermione. But he hadn't checked on it since they went to the stadium. He thought that it had probably fallen out when they were running. Maybe. “I keep it in my back pocket, I don't know when I lost it.”

“You should get yourself a wand holster. You should have one already really. It's stupid to keep your wand there. I've heard tales of wizards accidentally casting from their trousers. It never ends well,” Bill said. He looked at his siblings, probably realizing none of them would have wand holsters. “Mum, do we have any old wand holsters around?” 

Molly looked torn, then she set her fork down, “I'll just go see.” She disappeared up the stairs and they could hear her go all the way to the attic. She came back down with two dusty but well made holsters. The green one had a G embossed in the leather, likewise the blue one had a F. “We only have the two, I'm afraid.” She sniffled. She handed one each to the twins. “Those belonged to my brothers, Fabian and Gideon.” She wiped at her eyes with her apron. “I really need to dust that attic more often.” 

The Fred and George were carefully handling the holsters. “Thanks Mum,” they said in unison, for once sincere and serious. 

Molly looked at her disappointed youngest children. “We'll see what we can find when we go do your school shopping, alright?” They nodded, still disappointed, but used to looking in second hand bins.

“I think I might have an old spare, Mum,” Bill said. He too went up the stairs. He came back down with a red holster that looked used, but not old. He handed it to Ron. When Bill was healing his arm last night, Harry had seen that same red holster. Harry didn't say anything. He knew the Weasley pride was a dangerous thing.

~*~*~

Harry didn't think Bill would be leaving so soon. World Cup games could run for days, that's why they'd had the tents. Bill must have taken the next few days off, there shouldn't be any hurry. No one knew exactly what happened, but Molly and Bill got in another fight. The first everyone else knew Bill was coming down the stairs carrying his luggage. Molly was two steps behind him. “I just don't understand how you can practice such filthy magic. After what they did last night don't have any shame? Oh Bill, wait, we can have a good lunch. Can't you just stop? Even for a few days? How can this disgusting magic be more important that your family? Your family, William Weasley!” She didn't let him get a word in, not that he was looking very talkative. Bill's mouth was sucking a lemon and he continued toward his gathered siblings in the living room with determined steps. 

He gave quick hugs to everyone, even Hermione and Harry. Harry felt his throat close tightly on his protests. Bill gave his shoulder an extra squeeze and went to the fireplace. Molly had started crying, wiping her eyes with her apron. “I'll try to come back for the winter holidays,” he said. He looked at his mum. “I love you, Mum.” Molly nodded, sniffled and told him, “You be careful. I love you too.”

When he was gone and Molly disappeared upstairs, the rest of them were left in awkward silence.

~*~*~

Despite the chaos at the Ministry, the awkwardness of Bill's early departure, and the dark rumors in the paper, the rest of the summer was great. Harry and the others spent it playing quidditch, drinking lemonade in the backyard, doing homework when Hermione made them, and generally having one of the best summers of Harry's life. Harry tried hard not to think about all the dark things going on, and mostly succeeded. He did find it odd not to have chores or classes, as long as he could remember he always had one or the other. It felt like a dream, or a reward he didn't deserve. He soaked it up and felt happiness growing and unfurling like a plant inside him that had been starved of sun.

Charlie didn't follow Bill's example and took the next few day to relax and spend time with family. Harry got an education in poker, dragons, seeker moves, and pick up lines over the following week. Harry felt wistful about this, he wished Bill had stayed, he would have liked to get to know him the same way he now knew Charlie.

~*~*~

Summer had to end eventually. All too soon they were in the great hall, listening to repetitive announcements and singing the horrid school song. Only this year was different. This year there was no quidditch, and the triwizard tournament was happening. Harry was very disappointed he wouldn't get to try Krum's moves out against the slytherins, but he figured he could still practice them and do it next year. He didn't know what to think about the tournament. Hermione was all about the death toll and Ron all about the money and fame. Since he wanted neither money, fame or death, he wasn't interested in being the champion at all. He was excited to watch though.

For the most part school was like any other year. Harry quickly settled into the feeling of being home. A few days into term Ron got a letter from Bill. The letter itself wasn't anything special, Ron read most of it aloud when Harry asked about it. He was working on some cursed objects and he'd dissolved this very interesting curse which vanished your bones, but left you alive. Bill told Ron not to get Mum's hopes up, but he was going out with someone name Aaron tonight. Aaron was a warder on the same dig. He hoped it would go well, his last date had been dead boring.

The letter sharply reminded Harry of all his questions. He found himself looking up and down the table trying to see anyone else 'thanking magic'. Maybe he could ask someone here about it. But he was disappointed. He saw no one with smoke coming from there plates. Over the next few days he kept looking, even passing by the slytherin table slowly, hoping to catch a glimpse. Hadn't Ron said Malfoy did this? But there was no tell tale smoke from Malfoy's plate. He began to suspect Bill had been lying. Finally he pulled out some parchment to ask.

_Bill,_

_How are you? Ron got your letter and was kind enough to share it. Did your date go well? I hope Erin wasn't boring? You job sounds so exciting. What's it take to be a cursebreaker anyway?_

_I hope you don't mind me writing. But you said you didn't mind questions. You see I've been looking around Hogwarts but I don't see anyone else 'thanking magic'. Not one. What gives?_

_Harry_

It's sounded awkward to Harry, but after the third draft it didn't get any better so he sent it as is. It would take at least a few days for Hedwig to bring back a reply. 

~*~*~

When he did get Bill's reply he was almost afraid to open it. What if Bill had been lying, or playing a trick on him? What if he was offended Harry had asked? Nervous, he decided not to open it at the breakfast table. Instead he waited till he was in History of Magic and most of the other students were occupied with sleeping or studying for other classes.

_Dear Harry,_

_Of course I don't mind, I said you could. I mean that about anything really, not just the old traditions._

_Like your question about cursebreaking. If you go to the library there's a study aid section. It's mostly spells and potions for cramming Newt and Owl students but there's other stuff there too. The book you want is Careers and What They Require. You'll find just about any job in there. Even Knight Bus driver. It's where I got all my information, back when. Though I looked it up at the end of my second year, when I was trying to figure out which electives to take. Not that it did me much good. I wanted to be an auror in second year. An auror has to have a minimum of five Newts, and must get at least EE in Potions, DADA, Transfiguration, Herbology and Charms. A cursebreaker needs an EE in DADA, Charms, Ancient Runes and Arithmancy, with a passing Newt in Astronomy and Potions. Its recommended you have at least a second language too. I was very frustrated when I realized in my forth year that I'd rather be a cursebreaker. I was taking Arithmancy but not Ancient Runes. I had to do two years worth of studying in one, before my fifth year so I could join the 5th year class. It was a nightmare._

_Now as to your other question. You don't see anyone in the great hall giving Daily Thanks, because it's an automatic detention. Supposedly it was banned from the great hall because it was dangerous, especially for first years. In actuality it was banned for the same reason Mum went into a tizzy. It's associated with dark magic. It's no more dangerous than the levitation spell. All you do is point your want at what you want to give to magic, and think of what you are thankful for. You don't even have to say a spell. I think that's so it doesn't become an empty gesture. In order for it to work, you have to honestly be grateful. Most traditional families teach their children young with the parent's wand. I once saw a two year old do it. He flapped the wand every which way, and his face screwed up like a raisin but he did it. It was the cutest, most wonderful thing._

_Of course there is also the social stigma. Even if someone does the rituals at home, they may choose not to do them at school, so they're not ostracized. But that's another discussion entirely._

_So that's why you don't see it in the great hall. The ban made a lot of old families very very upset. Which, unfairly, they blame on muggleborns, and so called muggle lovers. Something about their too sensitive muggle notions. One of the friends who taught me said he snuck food, like rolls and apples, into his pockets when he left the table so he could burn it later. Some just don't eat what they would have burned, but that's no good, since that only deprives you, it doesn't give to anyone. It defeats the purpose._

_My date with Aaron was nice. I love dark hair and he's got really thick dark hair. It was just a night at the local pub, there isn't much to do close by. If we keep dating I'll look for something at more of a distance. I'll probably take him to Cairo next. We mostly talked about work though, so it might not last._

_Sincerely,  
Bill_

Harry felt a blush creep up his face. Aaron was a he, not a she. He was so embarrassed. But how was he to know that Bill was... that way. He didn't think he'd ever met a gay man before. The Dursley's would cross the street rather than walk next to a freak. This included gays but also whores and junkies. They'd even snubbed a clown making balloon animals once, despite Dudley's protests. But Bill was normal. He didn't wear garish pink, or talk different. Nor did he leer at little boys, not that Harry ever really believed the Dursley's about that. Harry mentally grumbled about Bill turning all his thoughts upside down again. He felt the same way he had when Bill hadn't broken out the dark hexes after Ron said he was a dark wizard. Couldn't Bill be normal at something?

Harry re-read that last paragraph again. Now that it wasn't a shock he could picture Bill in the pub sitting with a man with swarthy skin and dark hair. He could see Bill talking and drinking, his long, thin hands animated as he talked. Suddenly the picture took on a life of its own. Bill's hands were around Aaron's head and he was kissing the man deeply. Harry gasped and looked around the History classroom, somehow sure that everyone there could read his thoughts. But no one was whispering, or glaring in disgust. In fact no one was looking at him at all. Feeling self-conscious he decided to think about the letter later and stuffed it in his bag.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone is wondering, the name change from Aaron to Erin is deliberate.


	4. Observations and Revelations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder, Vernon Dursley's opinions are not my opinions, no matter the subject.

Harry may have put the letter away, but it was never far from his thoughts. Not only the imaginary kiss, but the talk about careers and the ban on doing magic in the great hall. He was disappointed that his electives wouldn't let him be a cursebreaker. He wondered what other careers he couldn't do now that he'd chosen divination and care of magical creatures. He thought about trying to change his classes, but it seemed like a lot of work. He'd look at the book, see what was available to him now.

With this new information about the ban in mind, Harry watched the great hall with new eyes. For the most part nothing spectacular was revealed. He saw many people taking food away, but he had done that himself when he was in a hurry, or just wanted a snack later. Some seemed to do it more consistently. He tried not to assume that meant anything, even if it was almost a given thing at the slytherin table. Still some of them had to be dark wizards like Bill. Maybe it was only the Weasleys who were over reacting. Sure it was banned but maybe it was dangerous to first years. He could easily see a first year Seamus blowing up the breakfast table. He burnt off his eyebrows with a levitation spell! Truthfully, he didn't know what to think, but he figured he should reply anyway.

_Bill,_

_Thanks for telling me about the book, I'll look it up next time I'm in the library. I'm afraid when I was making my elective choices I had no idea what I wanted. So I just did what Ron did. I figured I'd have a friend at least. Though now I think of it, I should have known that Hermione is so school crazy I would have her in my class no matter what I picked. These days I really regret taking what I did. I'm in care of magical creatures and divination. I like Hagrid but his Blast-Ended Skrewts are a nightmare. They're a mix breed with hard shells and 'ends' that explode at you. I have fantasies about sneaking down in the night and killing them all. If it wouldn't make Hagrid cry, I probably would. And even if the class were normal and just unicorns and kneazles I don't think I would want the class. I can't see my self as breeding kneazles, or whatever. Divination is actually worse. Ron and I regularly make up our homework and the daft woman can't even tell. That's not even mentioning that she's always saying how I'm going to die a horrible, gruesome, painful and lonely death. Lately we're doing dream journals and it's become a contest to write about the most bazaar unlikely ways to die._

_I didn't think you could transfer classes after third year. Do you think I still could? I've never been very good at school. What if I just end up failing the new classes?_

_I can see what you mean about students taking part of their meals away. I've always assumed they're in a hurry or just still hungry._

_What about that other thing you did? When you healed your arm? That was wicked. I've never even seen the school healer heal a wound that fast. I've only seen her fill a cut with potion paste and tell a student to lie down. Your way was so much quicker and it didn't even leave a scar. If there are better ways to heal why doesn't she use them?_

Harry paused, looking back at Bill's letter. He re-read the last paragraph. Bill was gay. He was dating a man. “I love dark hair and he's got really thick dark hair.” Harry felt a wave of intense curiosity. What was it like to kiss another guy? How had Bill known he was gay? Did he miss girls? Did Harry know anyone else gay and just not know it, the same way he hadn't known Bill was gay? How did Bill's parents feel about it? Ron hadn't seemed surprised or disgusted. What did the wizarding world think of gay people? Did Bill ever feel like a freak? Harry's gut clenched. For a moment all he could hear was Uncle Vernon sneering about diseased, perverted, freaks, thinking they could be normal people. In the end he was too scared to write much of anything.

_I'm glad your date went well. What do wizard's do for dates anyway? I haven't seen many wizard restaurants or theaters. Everyone here just goes to Hogsmeade or makes out in empty classrooms it seems._

_Harry_

Harry hoped by asking about dates in general Bill would say more about being a gay wizard, even if he didn't ask.

* * *

It had been a few days since he'd sent his letter. Since then Harry's eyes popped with all the things he was suddenly noticing.

There was definitely certain students who always took food away. Some of them were no surprise. Malfoy and most of the slytherins usually left with apples, oranges or other fruit stuffed in there pockets every meal. When Harry noticed this, he also noticed that the slytherin table had twice as many fruit bowls as any other table. Not that slytherins were the only ones, far from it. There were people from every table. Although the slytherins were by far the most casual about it. Harry saw many students that did surprise him. He thought maybe Neville was one but he usually made a sandwich and wrapped it in a napkin, so it could really be a snack. Harry figured the slightly pudgy boy just got hungry between meals. The biggest surprise was the hufflepuff seeker, Cedric Diggory. Every meal he left with apple in hand. Cedric seemed like such a, goody good. This made Harry all the more positive that the elder Weasley's had to be misinformed and misguided. He wondered why Bill didn't explain things to them properly. Surely they'd understand then.

Harry's eyes were also opened to something he'd practically ignored before now. The dating life of Hogwarts students. Harry knew there was rules about 'public decorum' so he didn't see, or expect to see, kissing in the great hall. But some relationships he'd previously taken as friendships were now clearly more than that. 

Two fifth year girls, one a ravenclaw, the other hufflepuff, always sat together. This morning they were sitting with their backs to him at the hufflepuff table. Juliet, the ravenclaw, had her arm around Lacey's waist in a tight possessive grip. Both were pretty girls with long pretty hair and nice make up. Neither fit his Uncle's description of lesbians. 

Little acts seemed as loud as billboards now. Hugs in greeting, leaning together as they ate, smiles that were just a little wider, all had new meaning. When a boy kissed another boy on the cheek, Harry flinched, waiting for the negative backlash. It never came. The students next to them rolled their eyes, teased, or made cooing noises, but no one said a single harsh word.

He was tempted to ask Ron a million times, but never found the right time. It was awkward to ask if Ron hated his brother for being gay, if he thought it weird or disgusting. Buried under all his other questions was a question he didn't dare even think. Would you hate me if I was gay? But Harry definitely wasn't ready to ask that.

* * *

Today Hedwig was back with Bill's letter.

_Dear Harry,_

_Harry I am very disappointed to hear what you are doing in your divination class. I'm not even talking about wasting your time, and the teacher's time. Nor the fact that you are putting your energy and magic into a class you apparently despise and have no intention of using. Though my mother would have plenty to say on those subjects._

_This goes along with the old traditions, Harry, so I'm not surprised no one has said anything. What you're doing in divination goes against what I believe very strongly. It's disrespectful and very rude. Many wizards these days believe that Magic simply exists and is theirs to use or abuse as they like._

_Divination is a serious branch of magic. It should be respected and appreciated. Even if you can't use it, others use it on your behalf. Magic never likes being disregarded, unthanked and made fun of. I personally have no gift for it, but I know those that do and it can be a seriously powerful magic. What you're doing in class though, virtually guarantees you will never make a proper prediction. In fact I wouldn't be surprised if Magic deliberately misleads you. Telling you something you want to hear that's not going to happen, or something awful just to see you squirm._

_I know this isn't what you've been taught Harry, and you don't have to believe me. I would ask that you stop though. Call it a personal favor to me if you have to. Just... do the best you can in your homework. If you don't have a legitimate prediction to make, say so, and take the grade given. I would rather see you get Troll grades than continue to abuse the class like that._

_It sounds like you need to switch classes. And this sort of thing, you should do sooner rather than later. Most people don't switch because starting a class late means either you have to work twice as hard to catch up, or you won't get a Newt in the class. Since a Newt is often the point of switching classes, most students are too lazy to bother. But you don't want to graduate Hogwarts with two Newts you've spent five years earning that are completely useless toward your career. That would be stupid. And believe me I'll be talking to Ron about this too. I would very much like to know what career he plans on, if those are the classes he picked. If he doesn't straighten up I'll be talking to Mum._

_I don't know what you're like academically, but I know you would do better in classes if you have a motivation to do well. Making goals should help you. You really should talk to Professor McGonagall about this. Look at the book I mentioned, in fact bring it to your meeting with the professor. Think about what you like to do. Try to think about more than quidditch._

_The spell was obviously a healing spell. I used my blood to write the runes, and a spell to release them. I didn't just use the blood because I didn't have a quill. The blood was one of the most important parts, and it acted to charge the spell, give it power. If your healer was ever caught using blood magic on a student she would be fired. It wouldn't matter how dire the situation was. Even at St. Mungo's it's rare. You have to know your healer is a practitioner of the old ways, and request it. If you just ask a healer to use blood magic to heal you, you might end up at the Ministry on charges instead._

_Aaron told me he's got tickets to a Celestina Warbeck concert Paris. He says he'll get us a portkey so we won't have to miss work or find a hotel. Paris sounds wonderful, Celestina... not so much. She's Mum's favorite singer, and Mum played her music all the time growing up. She's been around for ages. Personally I think her lyrics are cheesy and her voice shrill. But Aaron didn't ask me, and apparently he's a big fan. I just hope he's not too disappointed in my response. We'll see how it goes._

_I can't say I know how muggles date. You'll have to tell me. As for wizards, it depends on the couple. If they like sports, quidditch is always popular. There is also quodpot, which is similar., but more popular in te states. We have concerts and plays, but the actually places where you can see them are few and far between. We don't have the population to support them everywhere, but traveling with magic is fairly easy, if disorienting. Adult wizards will often travel to nearby countries on the spur of the moment. Traveling to farther countries takes a bit more effort. Like if I wanted to go see a quodpot match in the States, I'd have to get a special, more expensive, port key. But it's still doable for the average wizard. Same for restaurants.There are a few in Diagon, a few more in Hogsmeade, but you won't often find them away from a wizarding shopping areas. One my favorite restaurants is Lumos, which is actually in Paris. The food is delicious and they do some amazing things with magic lighting. I'm excited to go, I've only ever been once before._

_But why don't you find out for yourself, Harry? I'm sure there are many who would love a date with you. It doesn't have to be a big deal, maybe you could take them for a walk around the lake, or an evening broom ride? I remember some great broom rides when I was your age._

_Are you excited about the tournament? I've heard some very interesting things from some very interesting sources. Those champions are going to be in for a wild ride. I am glad that none of you are old enough, despite Fred and George's complaints. It's should be a real treat to watch. I wish I could be there for the first event._

_Bill_

Harry sat on his bed late that night. He'd just finished rereading the letter, and still didn't know what to think. Bill had written so much. The idea that Magic could think and feel and most importantly, be insulted, was silly and stupid. Magic was magic. That it would care that he didn't do his homework properly was laughable. But Harry wasn't laughing. Bill had sounded so serious, so determined to get his point across. And his censure stung. It didn't feel like a joke a all. He looked at his bedside table and the pretend dream journal he'd been keeping. One hundred and one ways to die more like. It did seem rather ridiculous now. Trelawney had to be a class A idiot not to know they made it all up. Or she knew all along, and her death predictions were her revenge. He supposed that was more likely, though still strange. Why not just give them Ps. Snape wouldn't have hesitated a moment to fail them if he thought they were making up homework. Granted it was much easier to make up predictions than 12 ways to use frog legs.

Feeling self conscious, like Bill was going to pop out and laugh at him any moment, he pulled the journal into his lap and began to read through it. He felt worse with every entry. Not able to make it though all of the made up entries, he went back to beginning and methodically used an erasure spell on every single page. Despite what this would do to his grade, he felt strangely better after each one. 

As he erased weeks of homework he thought about other things. Bill seemed to think he could do the class switch. He also didn't have quidditch this year. The Triwizard tournament only required he be a spectator. He decided he would make an appointment with McGonagall tomorrow.

Blood magic. Dark magic. Both were things that Harry had been told were dangerous and evil. But it didn't make sense! Bill just used the blood he was already bleeding to write on his arm, he didn't see anything evil in that. The fact that Madam Pomfrey would be fired if she used it, annoyed him. What if there was an easier way to grow bones? Skelegrow hurt. Thinking of second year he was reminded of the petrified students. Could there have been a blood magic cure that would have fixed them faster? Poor Colin spent most of the year as a statue. Harry huffed. Of course there wasn't a miraculous cure in blood magic. If there was Dumbledore would have made an exception, surely. And if a student was dying, surely that would be another exception. They wouldn't really let a student die because of stupid rules. Would they? No, Dumbledore was smarter than that, better than that. Harry pushed these uncomfortable musings aside.

Bill was going to Paris, for a date. It seemed unreal to Harry. He'd been to four places in his life, Surrey, London, the Burrow and Hogwarts. The Dursleys had been all sorts of places, but they never took him. He tried to imagine being an adult wizard, able to hop to Paris on a whim, or spend a day in Madrid. He wondered if the beaches of Greece were really as blue as the pictures. He felt a sharp, painful longing to find out.

He finished erasing the dream journal and distracted himself with funny thoughts of Bill looking bored at the concert. He sounded as excited about it as Harry would if he was going to see one of Petunia's favorite singers. Harry laughed. Poor Bill. This Aaron probably thought it would be a big impressive treat. At least Bill would be going to his favorite restaurant. He imagined them sitting at an expensive restaurant with expensive wine and snails on their plates. He thought about them holding hands and smiling at each other. It actually sounded really nice.

Maybe Bill was right and he should go on some dates himself. The problem was he hadn't ever been interested in anyone. The girls that stared at him usually couldn't help looking at his scar. Angelina was pretty, and his friend, but he didn't want to date her. Thinking of the quidditch team, he remembered Oliver, who graduated last year. He wondered if Oliver was here to ask him out, would he feel the same. He knew immediately that he didn't. When he imagined his tall, handsome, former captain walking with him around the lake, maybe holding his hand, or behind him on a broom, he felt his face flush with heat. Oliver had such big strong arms, what if he put his arms around Harry? He could almost feel Oliver's chest pressed against his back, his arms reaching around him. 

Harry swallowed. He felt a problem developing in his boxers. He turned on his stomach and buried his face in his pillow. Pleasant as the fantasy had been, he didn't want this. He didn't want to be a freak. This feeling had been building all week, as he looked at others and wondered, hoping that a part of himself he denied might be accepted. Right now, though, his fear was stronger than his hope. He thought of Ron, looking disgusted, Hermione calling him unnatural, other students staring and whispering like they had during the heir of slytherin fiasco. Mostly, he heard Vernon and Petunia calling him Freak. Feeling miserable with his new discovery Harry cried himself to sleep.


	5. Appointment with McGonagall

Harry woke sunday morning gritty eyed. In the bright light of morning the news didn't seem so hopeless. He could now remember all the couples he'd been seeing in the last week. The wizarding world obviously didn't mind gay couples. Or at least not nearly as much as the muggle world, and the Dursleys especially. He wasn't a freak. It wasn't freakish to love another man. It was just... different. That's what he told himself. His head believed him. Harry wasn't about to announce anything, but he didn't feel as horrible anymore. He was doing his best to ignore what Uncle Vernon would say. Vernon wasn't important. He was a stupid, ignorant, hateful muggle. If his opinion counted Harry wouldn't be a wizard.

Harry looked at the newly empty dream journal. He didn't remember any of his dreams last night. If he had, he wasn't sure he'd write about them. For a moment he was tempted to make something up again, but discarded the idea. He didn't think magic would really take insult, but he didn't want to disappoint Bill. So he marked the date, and wrote that he didn't remember any dreams. He could just see what Professor Trelawney would say, “No dreams! Oh dear, oh dear. That's simply awful, a horrible omen of death and darkness.” Yeah, he wasn't looking forward to her class on monday.

Regardless of his best efforts not to think about it, Harry found he couldn't turn off this newly discovered part of himself. He spent the days that followed, twitchy and nervous. He would notice a boy hurrying past in the hallway, then notice himself noticing the boy's arse. He would turn away and blush. He wanted to stop. Hermione had already looked at him strangely a few times now. Each time he had to combat the Vernon voice in his head. Vernon was defeated quicker each time, but it was still a battle. He wondered if he'd ever be able to look at a boy that way and not be embarrassed or afraid. It seemed impossible at the moment.

Most mortifying to him was that he wasn't really noticing boys, so much as their bodies. He noticed heights, shoulders, hair, smiles, backs, legs, and especially arms. Harry really liked muscled arms. 

Fred and George took their jobs as beaters very seriously. Harry became very aware of those beater arms when George hugged him sunday evening. It was a common thing, the twins treated him like a brother with all the physical affection and roughhousing that went with that. They often hugged him, leaned heavily on his shoulders, used him as a footrest, or fought him for his chocolate frogs. Never before had this been a problem. In fact, Harry cherished their easy affection. Now those muscled beater arms were making him warm in a different way and he cursed himself anew. Even if he ever came out, he vowed they would never know he was even a little attracted to them. He'd never live it down. They would tease him tell he was old and gray.

* * *

On Monday Harry stayed behind after transfigurations. He asked for a meeting, to discuss switching classes. Professor McGonagall pinched the bridge of her nose. “Is it an emergency Potter?”

“No Professor”

“Then it'll just have to wait. I'm up to my eyeballs in tournament business and really have not a moment to spare. Come see me on wednesday. You are free after dinner? Good. I will see you then.” Harry took the dismissal and rushed to catch up with Ron and Hermione.

Over the weekend he had found that book, Careers and What They Require. It wasn't nearly as dull as it sounded. Along with the lists of Newts and Owls that was required to do the job, it had pictures of people doing the jobs, descriptions of an average day, recommended non-school subjects, and hints such as, “If you like animals and quidditch, consider Hippogriff racing!” Along with obviously magical jobs there were many that wouldn't be out of place in the muggle world. He was looked at these with some amazement. Cooks spelling sauce into pots, architects transfiguring mini-models of their buildings, even actors using complicated glamors to look completely different. Still, Harry was just as confused about what he wanted to do in life. He knew he was good at defense, but wondered if he wanted to do it his whole life. There wasn't a “Survive Voldemort” career option. Besides, he doubted it paid very well. 

He thought about writing Bill back, asking him some more about careers. But he was too embarrassed about his recent revelations about himself. Besides, a letter wouldn't be able to get back before wednesday. He might as well wait till after the meeting so he had something to say.

* * *

His last class on monday was divination. Ron had been baffled and a bit angry that he didn't want to play 101 deaths since he'd gotten that letter from Bill. When Harry delivered Bill's warning, he just got more angry at Harry for telling tales to his brother. Hermione of course, couldn't be more proud, despite it being a horribly useless subject that she was glad to be rid of. He told them that Bill thought it was a waste not to put his best effort in, which was the truth, just not all of it.

“What are you doing writing to my brother, anyway!” Ron asked indignantly. He acted like Harry had gone behind his back. Harry could almost see his point. He hadn't meant to keep his letters with Bill a secret, they were just, private.

“We just, I mean, well. We're friends. He said I could write him and I did.” Harry shrugged. Hermione got a tight pinched expression, a mixture of hurt and anger. Harry wondered what he'd done now, since she was fine just a moment ago. As usual Ron decided not to talk to him the rest of the day. Hermione talked to him, but she sat with Ron in classes.

Now he was holding his mostly empty dream journal, waiting to go review the weekend's dreams with the Professor. He was called up at last and gave her his journal. She began by flipping quickly several pages in, to about the page he was at last week. Her eyebrows rose when she had to flip back to the beginning. It only had two entries. Both the same, no dreams. He waited to be told he would die horribly. Instead she ticked something on her paper, handed him back his journal and asked what kind of alarm he used.

“What?”

“Alarm Mr. Potter. How do you wake up in the morning?”

“Um... Just a standard alarm spell. Professor.”

“Your assignment is to find and use a more gentle waking spell. Your inner eye needs calm. When you are jared awake, dreams can't linger. I expect progress when I see you Wednesday.”

Harry stumbled back to his seat. She hadn't berated him for his lack of work. She was as crazy as ever, but she hadn't predicted his death, and he had actual advice to improve. Even if Bill was wrong, and it wasn't Magic appreciating his efforts, he liked how this experiment turned out.

* * *

The next two days were much the same. With the adjustment to his alarm spell he started to remember his dreams, but they weren't anything special. Sometimes he was flying, sometimes he was in his cupboard, but nothing really stuck out. Sadly there were no dreams that predicted how to get rid of Voldemort for good, or even warning that Snape was giving a pop quiz on Wednesday. But he had things to write in the journal and that was enough. He knew that Ron was still making stuff up, even after Molly sent a letter on wednesday morning. Ron didn't see the point, he was only in the class for the easy O. Ron's glare warned him against tattling to Bill again. Not that he meant to in the first place.

* * *

Wednesday arrived along with his appointment with Professor McGonagall. Harry wanted to tell Bill how it went so he had yet to write him this week. Harry gathered up the library book, and all the notes he'd made about various careers. When he knocked on her door she replied with a snappy, “Come in.” Harry was tempted to forget about the whole thing. Professor McGonagall's desk was covered in piles and piles of parchment. For a second when she saw him, she looked like she was going to give him a week of detention. Abruptly her face softened and she looked at the clock behind him. 

“Mr. Potter. I'm terribly sorry. I lost track of time completely,” she said. She picked up her wand and began to transfigure each pile of parchment into a different colored glass cat paperweight. The desk looked cleared but filled with cats. Then she swished her wand and the paperweights all floated to a bookshelf, looking quite at home with hundreds of other glass cats. Harry had to wonder if she really had that much paperwork or if some of them were actually glass cats.

“Mr. Potter?” Harry jerked his head back to the Deputy Headmistress. Apparently he'd been staring at her cat collection, and filing system, too long. “Sorry Professor.”

“Quite alright, Mr. Potter. Now what did you need, as you could see I'm very busy.”

“I think I need to change my electives.” Harry paused but she didn't say anything. “Its just... when I picked them I wasn't really thinking about my future career. Now that I am, I can't see Divination or Care being all that helpful.” 

Harry fidgeted in his chair, and the pause lengthened.

“Mr. Potter. What you are asking for is a very serious undertaking. We have two options here at Hogwarts. One, you could attend your chosen elective with the third years, and continue, one year behind until you graduate. To receive a decent Newt you would have to study the 7th year material independently.Two, you could study the 3rd and 4th year material now and join the 5th years next year. Alternatively. You could leave Hogwarts without your Newt and take the ministry tests when you feel you are ready. From experience I don't recommend this to anyone. Students who try this often start out with good intentions but fail miserably. You should also note that 3rd and 4th year material is much easier than 7th.”

When Harry didn't jump on one of these options immediately she sighed. “Harry, you realize that studying without classes is extremely difficult. There's no set homework or teachers to keep you in check. I have monthly tests I can give you to gage your progress, and a list of lesson topics but that's all. You're a good student, and no one can deny that you are intelligent, but you've never shone much drive in your academics. Are you sure you can put in the time and discipline this will take?”

Harry felt a great gust of shame blow up his spine. She was right. He had always done the minimum to get by here, or the minimum Hermione allowed. But the Dursleys had punished him for doing well in school, and Ron would always rather do anything else. It was easy to just go along. He had liked reading, once upon a time. He even stole books from Dudley's second bedroom. Hermione would help. Bill thought he could do this, maybe he could help too. Taking a deep breath Harry tried to remember the determination he'd had when he made this appointment. “Yes Professor. I've let you down in the past, but I know I can do this.”

“Very well then. I don't believe you mentioned what career you are striving for, or what class you need.” Professor McGonagall stood up and began to look at her top shelf where color coded groups of seven cats each held her attention.

“Er well. I kind of need some help with that too, Professor,” Harry mumbled. She spun to face him. “Explain.”

“I know what I don't want, more than what I do want. I looked up the careers that use care and well. I know I don't want to race hippogriffs, raise kneazles, search for rare potions ingredients or run a treasure hunting business. As for divination, some of those careers appeal, but I have no idea why a healer needs a newt in divination.” He huffed and looked at his lap where all his notes sat. He had noted all the pros and cons, abilities and talents, but was still lost. 

Professor McGonagall looked mournfully at the shelf all her paperwork had gone, then took her seat again. “You've mentioned what you don't want. Lets look at what you do. You have excellent records in DADA. Professor Lupin was particularly effusive. I assume this is something you enjoy? Have you considered being an Auror? Both you parents choose that path.”

“What?” Harry was surprised. He'd never known what his parents did for a living. Honestly when he thought of their day to day lives, he always pictured them in hiding from Voldemort. But they must have had careers before that. He was suddenly struck with an image of his mother fighting Death Eaters, not because they hunted her, but because it was her job. It seemed wrong. He supposed, when he thought of his mum, he thought of a younger, prettier, Molly Weasley. The thought of Molly as an auror was laughable. Harry realized he didn't really know anything about his mum.

McGonagall's face softened. “Your father was especially passionate about it. I always thought it was a waste for your mother though. She was so very talented. She was making her own charms when she was just 14, and Professor Slughorn would brag day and night that she was born to be a potions master. Your father, he was talented too, he could and often did sleep through his classes with Os, but he was far too lively to ever sit behind a desk.” She smiled at his dazed expression. “But we are here to discuss you, and not them, Mr. Potter. Is there a subject or hobby you like that I'm not aware of?”

Harry pulled his thoughts away from his parents. This is where he got stuck. The Dursley's hadn't encouraged hobbies. Unless you counted cleaning, gardening and cooking. Actually, maybe he should. Eventually he had found some pride in making better food than Aunt Petunia, and gardening was relaxing when it wasn't over a hundred degrees out. “I sometimes like to cook, and gardening isn't too bad. I'm not sure I'd like a career doing either.” He wished he could relax in potions. Potions reminded him of cooking, if Snape wasn't always there, breathing down the back of his neck he might enjoy them more. After a pause he shrugged, he couldn't think of anything else. 

“Hum. Well I see you have lists. What did spark your interest?” Harry handed over his notes. “Auror, cursebreaker, healer, spell inventor, broom-maker, seeker, and warder. A large interesting list. The only ones you would qualify for at the moment however is auror and seeker. Since an auror's requirements are core subjects and seeker is purely talent based. On principal I don't encourage any student to make plans dependent on becoming a professional quidditch player. You are a very talented seeker, and could very well play professional. But at it's best the career has a short life span, due to younger players coming to replace older ones, and if you are permanently injured, your career is over. And it is very easy to be injured in quidditch. If you make a team, I would congratulate you, but it's best to have other plans. So cursebreaker, healer, spell inventor, broom-maker, warder. All of those require arithmancy. Broom-maker and healer don't need ancient runes. And healing, and spell-invention do require divination.” She shuffled the papers back together and handed the back to Harry.

“We don't have to decide your future career today Harry. We do need to narrow it down so that you are concentrating on subjects that will benefit you. Now I recommend you go with arithmancy. Most of these need arithmancy. Since none of these careers have a care requirement I recommend you drop that, and keep divination. Arithmancy is a hard subject but with work you can do it.” She looked at him so seriously that he gulped.

He'd thought to drop both his current classes and take up ancient runes and arithmancy. He hadn't thought she would make him choose. He remembered Bill drawing runes on his arm, and watching it heal. He wanted to be able to do that.

“Can't I drop divination too and take ancient runes?” he asked hopefully.

“Mr. Potter, I'm already giving you the benefit of the doubt. Given your previous academic performance I have great misgivings. I can't allow you to throw away a class that would benefit your career goals, on such an unlikely gamble. You should have thought of the consequences long before now.”

Harry debated internally. He hated divination. Any career that used it should be on the bottom of the pile. Then again it hadn't been so bad this last week. Looking at his choices he knew there was a third option she hadn't mentioned, one that looked a lot like academic meltdown.

“Could I take all three?” he asked nervously. McGonagall's eyes narrowed. “I told you Mr. Potter. This will take serious dedication. I won't have you wasting my time. Nor will I have your other subjects suffer. I would be doing you no favors if you got a newt in ancient runes, and failed your potions classes.”

“I think I can do it Professor. Really. I'm sure my friends will help. Hermione would be all over it with time tables. And I've improved in divination a lot lately. A friend found out I wasn't doing the homework right. Once I started doing it right it wasn't so bad. It's actually easier. I think I might actually come to like it. As long as Professor Trelawney doesn't start predicting my death again.” Harry paused. The professor didn't look impressed, but while he was on the topic of divination he might as well ask something that had been bothering him. 

“Professor, my friend said Magic is kind of alive. That it can take offense and stuff. Which is weird but ok. But when I started taking divination seriously it got better, which I guess proves he's right. So I was just wondering why no one mentioned this to me because-”

“MR. POTTER!” Harry gulped. Professor McGonagall looked livid. At his scared expression she calmed herself. “Mr. Potter. I would like to know the name of the student who told you this. Right now.” Harry shook his head. “Mr. Potter, while seemingly innocent that line of magical theory is extremely dangerous and not taught at Hogwarts for a reason. I will need to have a serious discussion with them. You will give me their name, now.”

Harry shook his head. “They're not a student Professor. I, I met them at the World Cup.” Not strictly true but better than telling her it was Bill. She looked like she would tell Mrs Weasley exactly what Bill was telling me. After forbidding Bill from teaching his siblings, that was bound to fly like a lead balloon. McGonagall didn't look satisfied.

“I would highly recommend you break off this friendship, Mr. Potter. This friend does not have your best interests at heart.” Suddenly she looked brisk, and not like the kind head of house he'd been discussing his options with. Professor McGonagall stood again. She went back to the cats on the top shelf. She pick up a blue tabby with a 3 hanging from it's collar and then a purple siamese likewise with a 3. She set them on her desk and they each became stacks of parchment. 

“Alright Mr. Potter. We'll give you a trial. Remember you need to know the 3rd and 4th year material by the start of next year. I'll give you until just after the winter holidays to study the entire 3rd year curriculum. I will test you once a month, with a final exam in January. If in that time I notice a drop in your classes, or you fail to get an acceptable grade on the monthly tests, you will drop ancient runes. Is that clear? I will tell Hagrid you are no longer taking his class.” Harry beamed and thanked her. She ignored his thanks and sorted through the papers. She copied several pages and handed them to him. Among them were recommended book lists, a list for each class of what the regular class talked about, week by week, and finally a study guide for the end of year tests. Harry looked at the papers and felt a cold stone settle in his stomach. Some of this was practically gibberish to him. 

“Mr. Potter.” He looked up. “You are excused.”


	6. What the Light Hates

First order of business, after leaving McGonagall's office, was enlisting Hermione's help. Looking at the stack of papers she had given him, Harry had to stop himself from going back and saying he'd changed his mind. He felt like he was holding a small book in his hands. He checked the time, and headed toward the library. 

Hermione was sitting at her usual table, surrounded by books like always. The library was actually relatively busy and Harry was almost run over by oblivious students twice before he slipped into a chair at her table.

“Hi Hermione,” he said. She looked up and smiled at him. When she got a good look at him though she huffed and closed her book.

“What's wrong?” She demanded, crossing her arms over her book.

“Er, well, I really need your help,” he said. When she looked at him like this was obvious, he gestured at the papers. “I think I've done something stupid. I gave up care with Hagrid, and now I'm doing a self study of ancient runes and arithmancy. This is the third year curriculums. I have to learn all the third year stuff by January. That's when I'll start on the forth year stuff.” 

Thankfully she refrained from commenting on his stupidity. She pulled the papers to her looking thoughtful. She flipped through them, and didn't look surprised. She had taken both classes last year so she was probably familiar with all the topics.

“I hope you know I'll not be doing this for you?” she looked at him severely. Harry tried not to be offended by the suggestion. It's what he would think too, if Ron were the one asking. Harry felt a little guilty that, now, he was the one judging a friend harshly.

“Of course not! You couldn't anyway, not really. I don't have any real homework, just tests every month to gage my progress. No, I just, I don't know how to start! You were always on about those time tables at the end of every year. I thought you could help me make a study schedule, so I know I'll get it all done.” 

Hermione pulled out some parchments and a small booklet which Harry knew was her study planner. Counting weeks, counting topics, making calculations, she explained as she went. “There are 42 weeks in the school year. Two weeks are winter hollidays, and one is spring holidays, which means there are 39 weeks of work here.” She took a moment to look at him doubtfully. “There are 15 weeks until January 4th. That's when we come back from holiday. Are you sure she didn't mean the end of January? Well never mind. So that works out to about 2 and a half days per topic. And Harry that includes weekends and holidays. If I took those out it would get really ridiculous.” Harry swallowed nervously. 

Hermione pulled out a long scroll a blank parchment from her bag. She sorted the two classes out and made sure they were in chronological order. Taking up her pen she began to transcribe the topics next to dates on the scroll. But she'd only done one when she stopped. “On second thought. You'd better write these. I'll follow along and tell you which topics should take three days, and which only need two.”

She got up and they switched seats. He looked at what she had already written. First she wrote a date, _Sept. 23rd_. Below it were two topics, one for each class: _Elder Futhark: fehu, and Introduction to the Agrippan method_. He looked at the stacks of papers and wanted to groan, this would take forever. But Hermione was waiting impatiently and so he began. It didn't take nearly as long as he thought it would. His hand felt cramped though, and his mind was dizzy with all the things he'd have to learn. As he looked at the long list he had just made, he couldn't help feeling a bit proud. He hadn't done anything yet, but he'd made a good start. He felt prepared and not nearly so over whelmed.

“Alright Harry. These are your deadlines. In order to keep up with them you'll need to study a couple hours every day. I usually plan for an hour of homework for every hour of lesson. That means four hours of work, for every due date, that would have been free time before.” She looked at him the same doubtful way that McGonagall had. She bit her lip. “I'm sure you could get through the readings for each topic in much less time, but that would be only theory. You need to practice these or you'll be doomed from the start. The homework assigned to each topic is there. If you actually want to do this, do the homework. If you want I'll grade it, so you know how you're doing.” 

Harry agreed, a little less happily. Spelled out like that, hour for hour, he was very glad he didn't have quidditch this year. He remembered last year and Oliver's constant demands for practice. If the same was true this year, this would have been beyond impossible. 

“Ron is going to be impossible,” Hermione said, breaking into his thoughts. Harry nodded glumly.

* * *

Harry stared blankly at the Agrippan chart in front of him. After leaving Hermione he was determined to get a good start on his promise to his professor. But now that the classes were broken down into manageable bites, McGonagall's explosive reaction to Bill's beliefs consumed his thoughts. 

It made him ask again, why did light wizards hate these traditions? Professor McGonagall was a strict but fair witch, and she was intelligent. She wouldn't be persuaded by word of mouth tales of horror, not even authoritative gossip in the Daily Prophet. She had to know what she was talking about. But Bill was also intelligent, if much younger. He seemed equally convinced he was right and she was mistaken. 

Harry closed the book and pulled fresh parchment out. 

_Bill,_

_I just had a meeting with Professor McGonagall. The good news is that I'm dropping care of magical creatures. The bad news is I'm taking up Arithmancy and Ancient Runes. Well I suppose that was supposed to be good news too but the large heavy books in front of me say otherwise. Hermione has worked a minor miracle though and helped me make a study schedule. I'm supposed to be studying the Agrippan method right now._

_I'm also keeping divination. McGonagall wouldn't let me drop more than one of my current classes. Said if I failed, as she seems to expect, she didn't want me to lose everything. I chose divination because, well, I took your advice, and the class is so much better. Professor Trelawney has even stopped predicting my death and I've actually learned quite a bit this last week. It's also needed for a few careers I was looking at. I think I would have done without it, if I could have, though._

Harry thought about mentioning that he'd erased all his previous work in the dream journal, but still couldn't lose the feeling Bill would laugh at him.

_The thing is, I mentioned why it was getting better to McGonagall. How a friend had told me Magic was offended. I was curious why no one talked about magic the way you do. I mean who knows, maybe I'm shit at potions because I hate my teacher. Would that offend magic? McGonagall didn't take it well, didn't even let me finish my question. She actually yelled and wanted to know who was giving me such dangerous advice. I think if you had been a student she would have marched out right then to confront you. I told her it was someone I met at the World Cup. She told me to break off the friendship, because you don't have my best interests in mind._

_Bill, when it was just your Mum, I could ignore it. I thought she was just being small minded, or prejudiced. With the ban it seemed like an overly strict precaution, I have a room mate that burnt off his eyebrows in first year, so it seemed almost reasonable. But McGonagall isn't ignorant. Nor is she some wilting flower. Why did she react this way? Is it really that dangerous? I really need the whole story Bill._

_Harry ___

Harry thought about saying more. He thought of asking for help with his new classes, he wanted to know how Bill had known he was gay, he wanted to say how confused he was, how afraid he was that others would know. In the end he said nothing, his doubts and fears as well as McGonagall's strange reaction, stilling his hand. He'd find out more about what she was afraid of first.

* * *

Bill's reply took much longer this time and Harry tried not feel anxious. He almost managed. Ron was spitting mad about the new classes. Even more than he'd been about taking divination seriously. He thought Harry was bonkers, after a week of double time for two additional classes, Harry agreed. Harry just didn't have the time for chess, exploding snap, or pranking slytherins. He got even more upset when he realized Harry didn't have to do the homework, but was doing it anyway. He got very distracting. Ron would sit next to him and talk and whine. It was very frustrating. Harry took to hiding from Ron when he needed to study. Ron ended up spending a lot of time with either Dean and Seamus.

First chance Harry got, he went to Hagrid to tell about the changes. It was Hagrid's reaction that almost made him change his mind. The big man had cried. He said Harry was such a natural with his creatures. He reminisced about Buckbeak, Norbert, Aragog, and told him the skrewts really liked him. Apparently Hagrid thought their blasts were a sign of affection. Harry tried not to cringe, but just reiterated that he liked Hargid's class, it just wasn't what he wanted to do as a career. Hagrid seemed to accept it, in the end. But Ron and Hermione still got more rock cakes. Harry knew he didn't want rock cakes, but he felt the snub.

Harry was about to decide Bill wasn't going to write back when finally, a whole week later, the letter arrived.

_Dear Harry,_

_The 'whole story' isn't simple or easy. I love my way of life Harry. But there are many things I'm ashamed of and angry to be associated with. I confess that I wanted you to know the good things, the things I want to share, before telling you the bad. But I promised honesty, and I can only hope you don't hold the actions of others against me._

_Old magic traditions depend heavily, almost exclusively on sacrifice and exchange of benefits. You can see it in the Daily Thanks spell. Think of magic as this large lake, with the water, being magic. Wizards go to this lake every day to take water away. There is a lot of water, but eventually the lake would go dry if more water wasn't brought in. By burning their food, traditionalists believe that they are replenishing the lake, so to speak. The lake, or Magic can tell who is doing this and remembers. So these wizards find Magic comes faster, better, more, than those who take without giving back. Light wizards don't believe this of course. Some think we're deluded, others that it is only temporary energy that we create ourselves, that must be used immediately._

_But that's one of the wonderful things I was talking about, and I suppose it's time to talk about the not so wonderful things. Anything can be used as sacrifice Harry. How much magic comes from a sacrifice depends on many things. Food feeds your body, it costs you money, it cost someone labor to grow and make, not having it means your body has less nutrients. This makes it a good, but not important sacrifice, to make it significant you would have to give more than just part of a meal. Other things that can increase the value of a sacrifice are emotional connections. Say a photo of a loved one. Time and labor also factor in. Money also works, but the goblins frown heavily on sacrificing their gold._

_There are many more but I guess I should get to what I've been avoiding. You've already seen one. The most commonly known, and feared, sacrifices are flesh and blood. The life energy it our bodies makes these very very powerful sacrifices. The healing spell I used depends on blood sacrifice. It's what made it powerful enough to heal me right there. Obviously, just like food, more is better. At least in magical terms. You could sacrifice a drop of blood, or a liter. The liter will be immensely more powerful. Likewise, you could sacrifice a fingernail clipping, but it wouldn't compare to sacrificing your whole finger. It would be comparing an ant to a herd of elephants. Of course the situation would have to be very dire for you to give up a finger, or so much blood. And most people never will._

_However, thousands of years ago a wizard discovered that it didn't have to be your flesh and blood you sacrificed. Wizards could then use someone or something else's blood, flesh, or life to preform great feats of magic. They broke unbreakable wards, they raised the dead, and they enslaved armies. The most heinous crimes of wizarding history were made possible because evil wizards committed murders and other crimes to power their magic._

_Life sacrifice can be used for good though Harry. Not all of it is evil. I recently learned something at Gringotts that I probably shouldn't tell you. With the Tri-wizard tournament they wanted to update the school's wards. The goblins sent a team of warders and cursebreakers to assess it. They looked at the wards and they determined that, yes the wards are weakening but they are unable to replace them to even the current weakened state. They said if they tried the wards would be inferior. Goblins hate to say that. What the goblins didn't tell the Headmaster or the ministry is that the reason they couldn't be replaced is they were created with at least one willing life sacrifice. They couldn't confirm who gave their life to protect the school. But someone willingly gave up their life so you could be protected a thousand years later. Maybe they were old, near the end of their lives, I don't know. I think, back then, they did it so someone couldn't use an unwilling sacrifice to break the wards. Willing will always be more powerful than unwilling, and unwilling sacrifice will always be more powerful than no sacrifice._

_Although there was conflict about it, the world wasn't in the state it is now, until this last century. There was talk of abolishing the practice but it never went anywhere because there were so many good uses for the old ways. Then came Grindelwald. I know there was the muggle side of things, I'm afraid I don't know much about that. But in the wizarding world, things have never been worse. Muggles were sacrificed in lots. Camps were set up to deliberately harvest the muggles pain. The wizards who did it grew so powerful, no single other wizard could compare. All over the world wizards joined together to fight against him and his wizards. And it still wasn't enough. Millions of lives were lost. Though only a small fraction were used for magic. Some of that was battle, wizard to wizard and muggle to muggle. Others were fanatic mad muggles killings muggles for some higher purpose I never understood. But more than enough of it was evil wizards killing for their benefit and prejudice. To this day I don't know how Dumbledore was able to defeat Grindelwald. Without sacrifice of his own, it shouldn't have been possible._

_Because of the horrible actions of these evil wizards, the ones that use murder for magic, light wizards have sworn off all sacrificial magic. Which they think is the only way to stop the evil practice of using murder and other crimes to become powerful._

_Grindelwald is an evil man. The men and women who followed him were evil. The ICW (international confederation of wizards) was created solely to watch, guard against, and attack any wizards thinking to do the same. But should an entire people give up their religion, and culture, because some of them used it for evil purposes?_

_I believe that if all wizards became light wizards then magic itself would dry up. I love magic too much to let that happen. Not only that but I believe that if you don't use sacrificial magic, it doesn't make you a moral man, and using it, doesn't make you an immoral man. I'm 24 and I've been using so called dark magic for 6 years. I've use many sacrifices in that time. Mostly food, and when need called for it, my own blood. I have never, and I will never use unwilling sacrifice. I won't use or condone the use of someone else's pain or death. Even if it means I die. Just like I know you would never use unwilling sacrifice. You would never condone the murder, rape, or torture of anyone. Because we are moral men, Harry. I believe that makes us both good wizards. And those who would use another unwilling? Evil wizards. They are the ones that people think of when dark magic is mentioned. It's why, though I practice what the ministry calls dark magic, I refuse to call myself a dark wizard._

_So that is why my parents are angry with me, why McGonagal calls it dangerous, why I can never talk to my siblings about some of the wonderful things magic can do, why most people won't admit to a stranger that they practice the old ways. The history is dark and bloody. But magic can be so beautiful Harry. I don't think I could ever give it up, knowing what I know, feeling what I've felt. I hope that you will write to me again. I've enjoyed talking to you Harry. But I will understand if I don't hear from you._

_Sincerely,_  
_Bill_

Harry set the letter down and felt bile in his throat. He'd thought it was just religious. Some misunderstanding of cultural proportions. Like Christians and Muslims. Thinking of someone like Voldemort using murder to enslave an army, it seemed all too plausible and frightening. He remembered the horrible pictures he'd seen in muggle primary school, and he knew those were the nicer ones appropriate for their age. Did Grindelwald start the war? Or did he just capitalize on it? All those people, thousands, millions, killed. He wondered if the Malfoys practiced this evil magic. Suddenly he remembered the chamber.

Inside the chamber Ginny had been dying. She had been dying because Tom Riddle, had been sacrificing her soul to make his body. Sacrifice. Harry couldn't hold the bile down anymore and he rushed to the toilet. Harry leant against the bathroom wall feeling tired and betrayed. The magic Bill had described had seemed almost beautiful. He loved it, it had seemed balanced, and poetic. But if this is where it came from Harry wanted no part of it. He couldn't get past the images in his head, or seeing Ginny's body laying as if dead. He didn't know how Bill could still defend it, knowing the history and especially after what it had almost done to his sister. Maybe he didn't know. Harry didn't care. Wearily he got up. He stuffed the letter as far back in his bedside drawer as he could. He never wanted to see it again.

* * *

After the last letter from Bill, Harry wanted to do a lot of things. He wanted to make up his homework in divination again, he wanted to give up arithmancy and ancient runes, he wanted to ignore the students taking their food away from the great hall, he wanted to ignore the self hatred he felt when he noticed the boys around him, he wanted to talk to somebody, anybody about the old ways. He wasn't able to do any of these things. 

Divination was just, easier, this way. To go back didn't make sense. He told himself that it was easier because he was taking it seriously, it had nothing to do with Magic liking him better. 

When Ron got mad at him again for studying instead of playing, he really wanted to curse Bill for his stupid ideas. What stopped him was the doubtful looks of both McGonagall and Hermione. His pride was stung, to back out after only a week would be horrible and humiliating. 

He found himself in more fights with Malfoy. Even if Bill wasn't doing evil things with the magic, he knew the Malfoys. They probably did stuff all the time. So when Malfoy taunted them, instead of holding back his temper, he let it fly. Sometimes he pictured a dark rooms with white alters, a muggle strapped in place, like in a horror movie. It made it more satisfying to punch Malfoy's pale face.

Harry's eyes betrayed him over and over. He started deliberately looking at girls, hoping for a spark, a want to touch or be touched by them. The girls did nothing for him. He knew that Cho Chang was beautiful, that she was cuter when she smiled, and she was great a quidditch. But when Harry pictured himself kissing her or holding her, she excited him as much as a block of wood. It made his anger and depression reach new heights. Bill had somehow woken this thing in him but now the comfort and reassurance he'd counted on was gone.

* * *

Two weeks after Bill's last letter and a week before the tournament start, Hermione noticed he hadn't received any mail lately.

“Heard from Bill?” She asked.

“Er. No. We've had a bit of a falling out.” He mumbled. It had been a long two weeks. He was tired, depressed, angry and lonely. To be honest the things in the letter were losing their power in the face of missing his friend. For just a few weeks he'd enjoyed the ability to talk to an adult about anything. One who wouldn't judge him and couldn't punish him. Someone who was teaching him something fascinating and beautiful. After the initial upset he had remembered to good things Bill had mentioned, remembered too his own fascination. 

“Really!” Hermione sounded excited and happy. “Oh Harry I'm so proud of you.” She hugged him fiercely. Now Harry was really irritated. 

“Why are you proud I had a falling out with a friend, Hermione?” He asked, pushing her back.

“When you told us you were writing to him, I was scared that you would be curious. I mean you're almost a pureblood. Your father was pureblood. I though that you might become his friend more than ours. I'm just so glad you saw through him.”

“Why would being Bill's friend mean I wasn't yours Hermione? What have you got against Bill,” She finally seemed to realize he wasn't as happy as she was with this turn of events.

“I wasn't aware I needed a reason to hate dark wizards, Harry,” she said, her little nose in the air. She sniffed and left. Harry was irritated, confused, and not a little bit guilty. Because she was right, last year she wouldn't have needed a reason to hate a dark wizard. Dark wizards were supposed to be evil, period. Even now though, he knew that Bill wasn't evil. Practicing magic he shouldn't? Maybe, but not evil. With Hermione's not quite ultimatum, he resolved to put all thoughts of trying to talk to Bill out of his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those looking forward to Hermione's point of view, I'm sorry. Originally she was going to tell Harry all the reasons why she hates Dark Wizards. But I wanted to break up the light's perspective into smaller, easier to digest, pieces. I'll get there eventually.
> 
> On another note I am sorry if the inclusion of the holocaust, upset or angered anyone. I understand it is a very sensitive topic. But not only did I need a real valid reason for the Light's hatred but given what we know of Grindelwald it fit. If you have any questions or concerns about this feel free to PM me or leave your question in a review.


	7. The Candle and the Cup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry receives a very special present from Bill for Samhain, and the Goblet names the champions.

Two days before Halloween Harry heard from Bill again. It had been four weeks. Four miserable weeks. Everything around him seemed to be going wrong. Homework was harder than ever. Classes seemed to make no sense. His teachers were short tempered and busy.

His friends were unhappy with him, though they weren't outright fighting either. They still sat together at meals and in classes, but there was a new chill to their relations. He got the feeling they were each waiting for him to apologize. Which was ridiculous since, as far as he knew, he had nothing to apologize for. Frankly, he though he could do with an apology himself. Mostly he felt lonely.

He thought about his other friends. Neville was a good bloke. He was quiet but always nice. But they didn't really talk much, just about classwork or whatever game they were playing in the tower. Truthfully he didn't know him very well. Other than that he took a wrapped sandwich away from every meal. Which was another reason Harry felt conflicted. Then there was the twins. Fred and George were no different than they ever were. Loud, proud, and always sneaking away to do mischief. But it didn't make them good candidates for a serious conversation, and if he tried to talk to them about homework, they'd probably prank him.

Still, when Bill's package arrived Harry thought about trashing it. Then he caught Hermione looking at it suspiciously. A rebellious part of him shrunk it instead and put it in his pocket. Plus he didn't get so many packages that he wasn't curious.

Harry sat on his bed that night, staring at the package. He hadn't opened it, and he again debated whether to do so, or throw it out unopened. It was from Bill. If he trusted Hermione, Bill was evil, and an evil wizard just might send something cursed when they were ignored. But he didn't really believe that. No, he felt more like Pandora, knowing he shouldn't open it, but unable to stop.

Finally, he told himself he was being stupid, it wouldn't hurt to see. He opened to box, and let out a relieved and disappointed sigh. It was a candle. Five inches (12.7 cm) tall and 3 inches (7.62 cm) thick it was made with pearly white and inky black wax. Cut out of the white wax were beautiful, graceful, runes that showed the black underneath. It was a pretty candle, but just a candle. He wondered ruefully if he expected a dead cat or something. Feeling inexplicably disappointed, he reached for the letter also in the box.

_Dear Harry,_

_I know I said I would respect your decision, and I do. But I wanted to wish you a good Samhain. I was making my own Samhain preparations, and I was reminded of you. I don't know what you know about Samhain, I know Hogwarts officially celebrates Halloween. It's one of the most solemn celebrations of the year for traditionalists. That sounds contradictory. There are many traditions for Samhain, and no way is the 'correct' way. But you'll find most have a bonfire, hearth fire, or at least a candle. Many burn things, a resolution most often. Remembering the dead is also something they have in common. This may involve anything from toasts and large feasts to quiet meditations._

_Now, I have my own traditions, things that just felt right. Some of them involve sacrifices. But I know that you don't want to hear about those anymore. Suffice it to say, I remember. I remember my dead, my family, my accomplishments, my failures._

_Like I said, I was reminded of you. I can only imagine what it was like to grow up without your parents. I have my disagreements with my parents but I can't imagine losing them. I'm very sorry that you lost yours. Especially such special people. It's said they fought courageously, that your father gave his life trying to protect you and your mum. I can only imagine the terrifying sacrifice._

_It's been many years but this candle is specifically made for mourning. It's a meditation candle made with potions and spells to promote calm, peace and healing. It's also got spells in it to thin the veil between life and the hereafter. Although it is a traditional condolence gift, it is not made with dark magic, if that is a concern. You can use it anytime, but it's ideally used this time of year if you hope to actually have communication between worlds. The closer to Samhain it is the more likely you are to get feelings, impressions, even messages from the other side. Not that I want you to get your hopes up, Harry. These things are always vague, and it has been years. I just I hope it brings you some peace. It can't hurt, I've known some widows who burn them every year._

_To use it find a quiet place that you won't be interrupted. Bring or transfigure a cushion, you'll be sitting on the floor for a long time. Sit on the cushion cross legged. Light the candle with your wand. Then sit back with your hands relaxed on your knees. Breath deeply with your eyes closed. Think of the loved ones you've lost. The smoke from the candle should put you into a meditative trance. What happens after that is between you and the candle. You don't have to use the whole candle in one sitting, so don't worry if it's not gone when you come out of trance._

_I'm sorry that you couldn't accept the dark history of what I do. I wanted to remind you that I haven't ever done those things, and you yourself don't have to be a dark wizard to be my friend. I've missed our letters._

_Sincerely,_  
_Bill_

Harry's throat closed up. Not only did he miss Bill too, but no one had every given him condolences for his parents death. It was like, because he lived, it was ok that they died. He knew that that wasn't true. It was just that there had been so many deaths back then that his parents deaths weren't significant. But they were significant to him. The longer he was in the wizarding world, the more he found out about them, the more he missed them, not less. Before, the Dursley's had said they were drunken freaks who were better off dead. Now he knew that his father was mischievous, smart, and loyal. His mother was kind, brilliant, and dangerous enough to be an auror. They had both loved him so much they gave their lives for him.

Cautiously he reached out and picked up the candle. He could feel the powerful magic immediately. His fingers tingled and he felt calmness wash over him. It was like nothing he'd ever felt before. As he reluctantly took his hands away, he felt no conflict for the first time in weeks. He would use the candle. Thinking about the best time, he decided he would sneak out tomorrow night. Halloween would be too chaotic, and he didn't want to wait until after.

* * *

Harry dug through his trunk to get his invisibility cloak. It had been a long day, with the other schools arriving, but he was determined to use the candle tonight. Finally he found it and swung it around his shoulders. He picked up the box with the candle and crept out of the room. He didn't see Seamus' eyes following him curiously.

The corridors were dark but he wasn't the only one sneaking about. The older students he saw creeping around were all headed to the great hall. He supposed they didn't want the pressure of other students knowing they entered. It's what he would have done. He himself was headed to the divination tower. There were unused rooms up there. Students never used them because Trelawney never left her tower, but he wasn't planning to make a lot of noise. If Trelawney did catch him, he thought this might be something she'd approve of.

He slipped quietly into a room with no trouble. He transfigured a chair into a cushion, and sat there staring at the candle for a long time. "Please, please let this work," he whispered. He wanted to know his parents so badly. He thought about Magic, as Bill thought of it. Of it being alive, helpful, and powerful. With determination he whispered again, "Please let this work." This time he knew who he was asking for help. Finally he took his wand from it's holster and lit the candle. His eyes closed and his breathing deepened.

The smell was nothing definable. It was sweet, and bitter, and yet inexplicably comforting. Before he knew it tears leaked in a steady stream down his face. He didn't sob, but he had never felt his grief so profoundly. The ache in his chest felt like a boulder. His mind was filled with memories at the Dursley's. All the times he wished so desperately for his parents, wished for mummy to hold him, or a daddy to say he's proud. He remembered the night they died, in the clearest detail, better even than when the dementors were near. He was struck by how young they were. They were younger than Bill is now. Just beginning their life, barely out of school, with so much to live for.

His thoughts focused on his father. _"You look so much like your father."... "Arrogant, just like your father."... "He's here! Take Harry and run!"… "Your father was particularly passionate."..._ Passionate, that's what his father was. Even Snape would agree. He was proud, passionate, arrogant, mischievous, loyal. As Harry thought about his father, he felt warmth surround him. It felt like fire. Comforting but dangerous. He began to get impressions, seeing things he didn't remember, fleeting things as insubstantial as mist. James was laughing, smiling, flying, even running as a stag. He saw a little boy, muddy and proud of it. Teenaged James ran naked away from a furious red haired witch. He saw him tickling a baby Harry's stomach and carrying Harry on his shoulders. He saw him fighting men in dark cloaks with a viciousness that was frightening. He saw him kissing Lily like he never wanted to stop. He even had a brief glimpse of his parents making love, before it was lost in swirls of color and feelings. Feelings that poured into Harry between memories, and Harry knew they were for him. Not just the baby him, his parents knew when they were alive, but the him he was today. A whisper of a hug surrounded him, and a ghostly hand ruffled his hair. He felt pride, love, laughter, and teasing. Then the feelings slowed and changed.

His mother's face swirled up in his mind. _"You have your mother's eyes."... "She was so very talented."... "No! Not Harry! Please not Harry!"..._ Lily was delicate, fierce, sharp, brilliant, and beautiful. She was like a diamond. Harry felt that fierce devotion and love envelope him. He knew then that comparing Lily to Molly was like comparing a tigress to a house cat. He saw her running and climbing trees with a young black haired boy. She snarled at a meek, young looking, James and Sirius. Harry felt her competitiveness as she sweated over a cauldron. He felt her brilliance when she made her first spell. Lily too was vicious when she fought the death eaters, she didn't hesitate to cut down a man from behind. He saw her adoration when they married. He saw a pregnant Lily holding her belly and felt her love and protectiveness. Then he saw a curious thing. The nursery he'd seen so many times in memory. Lily had pulled the rug up and was drawing complicated ruins around his crib, and Harry felt her determination. This memory lingered longer than any other, but he didn't know why. Again he felt whispery arms enfold him, and a faint kiss to his forehead, as feelings of love, pride, regret, and sorrow filled him.

The intensity began to fade but Harry could still feel both of them with him, loving him, healing him. He floated in a cloud of feelings for a long time. It was as if time had lost all meaning. Occasionally a new memory would surface. Sometimes they were from his parents lives, but more and more they were his memories, but with different feelings. When he saw himself sliding down to the Chamber of Secrets, he felt his mother's scolding, even as he felt his father's pride. When a glimpse of his cupboard left him cold, Mum's anger warmed him, even as Dad felt a sorrow miles deep. It wasn't like reliving his life. Nothing so comprehensive. More like... a conversation after a long separation.

As he thought that he felt a bit more in control, and less floaty. What did he want to say? What did he want to ask? His conflicted feelings of the last few weeks flowed though his mind. He thought of Bill and his friendship and the memory of sitting together outside the tent played in his mind. For once the answering feelings weren't as crisp. But they were far from negative. Mum was encouraging. Like being patted on the head and told to go play. Dad was more watchful, cautious, and protective. Harry inexplicably thought it felt like a father looking at a child's potential date. Harry couldn't make sense of that since Bill was friend, not a date.

But it reminded him of his other problem. Hesitantly, he deliberately remembered checking out his male classmates. The memories made him blush, there were more of them than he'd realized, for longer than he'd realized. Even in this cocoon of love he half feared their reactions. The response was immediate and irrefutable. He felt their love, acceptance, and encouragement. Then a feeling of teasing and laughter from his father. A parade of handsome wizards flashed though his mind, only to disappear with a distinct, 'not good enough' feeling. His mother's response was more serious. _…not…freak…_ Tears ran anew as he felt acceptance and reassurance from this most important source.

He was gathering himself to ask more questions when he felt the sorrowful feeling increase. Then everything began to feel faint and far off. Despite his feelings of new loss and disappointment, feelings of calm, and love remained.

For long minutes after he simply breathed in and out, savoring everything that had just happened. He knew his parents now, knew them in ways he never imagined. When he finally opened his eyes he found the only light in the room coming from the moon outside. He'd used the whole candle. He checked the time. It was just after 5:30 am. He'd been here for five hours. In a way he wasn't surprised. He felt he'd been in this dusty room for years, but it also felt like only minutes. For a moment he wondered if he'd dreamed it all, but the memories and feelings were too real to deny. Stiffly he got to his feet. His body cracked and groaned with every moment, and he felt a hundred years old. Gathering his things he set the room to rights and headed back to gryffindor tower.

By the time he got to the tower he could hear the very early risers moving around and starting their showers. Ignoring them he fell into his own bed, and went immediately to sleep. He was very cross with Ron an hour later. Seems he wanted to go watch people put their names in. Harry almost told him to get stuffed. Their friendship had been frayed enough lately though, so he forced himself up. One night of short sleep wouldn't kill him. And he felt too good, too happy to be really upset.

* * *

Harry felt the calmest and happiest he had ever been all day. Nothing could bring him down. Because of the lack of sleep, he was tired but he felt too cheerful to care. That is until the stupid cup.

"Harry Potter!"

Harry felt the world still. This was wrong, so wrong. Maybe Ron hadn't woken him up this morning, this had to be a dream. He hadn't put his name in, he didn't want to put his name in, how could it come out?

Numbly he followed instructions. Everyone accused him of cheating, even his defenders seemed doubtful. When Fleur asked snidely why he should complain, when everyone had been hoping to be picked for weeks and weeks, he felt his temper snap.

"Well zis little boy didn't! I don't want to compete! I don't want to be the champion! I don't want the prize money! In fact I'd pay to not compete! That magical contract can't be binding! I didn't put my name in!" Harry yelled, but no one seemed to care. No one believed him. And apparently no one could do anything about it, even if they did. He didn't know if he believed Moody's assassination hypothesis, but it sure didn't comfort him.

When they released him to go to bed he felt drained and hopeless. It just figured that something good happened and then this. Was he never allowed to be happy?

"So... tell me... How did you get your name in?" asked Cedric.

Harry huffed and glared at him. "I didn't. I'm not lying. I don't want fame or money. I hate it. I hate the whispering and the staring. I play quidditch because it fun. This contest doesn't sound like fun, it sounds scary, exhausting, and time consuming." Harry groaned suddenly remembering his new electives. "Damn it! I don't have time! McGonagall is never going to let me continue my new electives now. I had to practically beg McGonagall to let me do it in the first place!" Frustrated, Harry kicked the wall, and got a sore foot for his trouble.

If Harry had hoped for understanding, he was to be disappointed. Cedric just looked politely bewildered. Exhausted, Harry said again, "I don't know how my name got into that cup. Maybe it was a joke by Fred and George," he said.

Now Cedric looked like he believed him. "That would be like them, and they're awfully fond of you." He seemed thoughtful. "Well goodnight, Harry. May the best man win!" said Cedric as he left cheerfully.

* * *

When he got to the common room he found that Dumbledore was right and a party was in full swing. Harry didn't care. He tried to go directly to bed but was stopped at every turn, everyone wanted to know how he did it, but no one believed his answer. When Fred cornered him, he started a chant, "Speech! Speech! Speech!" Harry got an idea. He agreed to a speech and climbed up onto one of the study tables. The room laughed and quieted. Most of them thought they would finally hear how he entered, or maybe a rally for gryffindor pride.

"Thank you. I'm glad that you all are happy about me being champion. Because I'm not. I didn't enter my name. If someone here did so on my behalf." He looked at George and Fred. "I'm not laughing. Because I didn't enter my name, I've made a decision. I'm going to lose. I'm going to do the absolute minimum that the magical contract allows. If anyone has made bets already, I suggest you get your money back. I guess that's all." He climbed off the table to the sound of grumbles and protests. Most were too stunned to speak. At least this time, no one stopped him when he went to his dorm.

Ron was waiting for him. "That was a very nice speech. Probably got most of them fooled," he said. He was scowling at his lap and not looking at Harry.

"Ron, surely you believe me!"

"Do I? I guess you should have been more careful last night. You know Seamus saw you leave, saw you put on the invisibility cloak and everything. Is that how you did it? The cloak?"

"No! And besides the cloak wouldn't have worked."

"Yeah I thought not, you could've shared the cloak. So it was dark magic then."

"What?! Ron where did you get that idea."

Finally, Ron looked up. "The package you got from Bill. Seamus said you took the package with you last night, and look, now it's gone. You'd think if Bill was going to help someone enter a contest with dark magic, it would be one of his brothers. But no. Seems Bill likes the Great Harry Potter more than his own family." Now Harry saw that Ron looked sadder than he'd ever seen him before.

Harry swallowed and tried again, "Ron, it's not like that. It was a Samhain gift. It was a candle. I snuck out last night to light it. Please Ron."

Ron turned away. "Goodnight, Harry," he said sadly. Then he pulled his curtains.

* * *

Harry closed his own curtains and cast a silencing spell. After such an incredible experience last night, tonight had to be one of the worse ever. He was tired, angry, and depressed. The worst was Ron, because for once, Ron had a point. It was based on wrong assumptions but the evidence looked bad. Harry would be upset too if Ron had stolen his brother. Harry didn't have any proof otherwise either. The candle was gone, and he hadn't shown it to anyone. He could get Bill to write Ron, but that would confirm Ron's suspicions, not deny them. How do you prove a negative anyway? Stupid Seamus, why couldn't he have kept his big gob shut.

Harry felt tiredness sweep over him. He just wanted to sleep, but with Ron's accusations, he knew he needed to do one more thing before he went to bed.

_Dear Bill,_

_First of all, thank you very much for the candle. I used it last night or rather this morning. It was the most wonderful experience of my life. I met my parents Bill. Not like, face to face, but I felt them. They love me, and they're proud of me. I saw memories of what they were like. And I felt who they were. They were such incredible people. Mum was so brilliant and sharp, and Dad was always laughing and passionate. I wish so badly that I had grown up with them, but I'm glad I got to know them at all. So, thanks._

_I'm afraid that's the only good news I have. Tonight was horrible. Halloween always is, I guess I should have expected it. Tonight they picked the champions for the tournament. It should have just been a spectacle and a feast and off to bed. Instead, somehow, I got chosen as a forth champion. Not even Hogwarts champion, but some unnamed other school. The real Hogwarts champion is Cedric Diggory. I don't think I even technically represent Hogwarts at all. Fleur, the Beauxbatons champion, kept calling me a little boy, in this ugly snide voice. By the way, Victor Krum, from the Bulgarian national team? He's the Durmstrang champion. I've tried to tell everyone that I didn't put my name in the goblet of fire. But no one believes me. Dumbledore kept asking who I asked to put it in for me. Most of the Hogwarts teachers seem to be defending me only because they have to. Well, Mad-Eye Moody believes me I think, but he thinks it's all a mad plot to kill me. I don't know what to think about that._

_I came back to the common room and everyone was having a party. It made me so mad I did something rather stupid. I told them I was going to lose. Deliberately. I don't think they're going to be happy with me in the morning. I don't even know if I can deliberately lose. I don't even get to know what the first task is, since it's supposed to test our daring and nerve. Not that I think I'll win. Everyone in the contest is at least three years older than me, how can I compete with that?_

_But the very worst thing happened when I got to my dorm and talked to Ron. Seems one of my dorm mates saw me sneak out to use the candle. This apparently confirmed to everyone that I put my name in last night. But Ron has an additional theory. He knows that you practice 'dark magic' and that you sent my a package. So he thinks you used dark magic to get me into the contest. He's... really upset. I don't know what to do. Ron's my best friend, my first friend. I don't know what I'd do without him. Yeah he gets jealous and sometimes he's annoying but I don't know what I'd do without him. Whenever I really needed a friend, he's always been there. I don't want him to think that you like me more than him. He's your family! Family is more important than anything._

_I'm still not sure about dark magic. I liked it, but now... now I can just see Ginny, lying cold on the ground as her very soul is sucked out. Voldemort used dark magic to make the person who wrote in that diary sacrifice their soul to give him a body. And what Grindelwald did, I can't even really believe it, it's just too horrible. It makes sense of something that made no sense, but it's still so sick and twisted I don't know what to think._

_But you were right. I don't have to like dark magic to be your friend. And I could really use a friend right now._

_Sincerely,_

_Harry_


	8. After The Goblet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still alive. It's been 2 and half years since I updated this story. I was never happy with what I wrote, so I wrote nothing. I'm still not satisfied. But I decided something was better than nothing. I hope you enjoy.

If Harry thought time would dull peoples reactions, he was wrong. Not only that but his little speech meant that the Gryffindors, instead of loud, cheerful, and supportive, were resentful. They had a champion, but a reluctant one. Most thought it criminal that Harry went to all the trouble of entering, but like a coward, backed out when he got in. There was no greater insult in Gryffindor, than Coward.

Even those who reluctantly thought someone else had entered him, thought he was a coward for not trying anyway. 

So Harry avoided everyone. The resentful Hufflepuffs for stealing their glory, the sly jokes of the Slytherins, the disapproving stares of his teachers, and the anger of his housemates. True, many people did nothing. Like Neville and Hermione, Fred and George, and many other anonymous students, who just didn’t care. But in the state Harry was in, every non-supportive word felt like a blow. 

Fred and George were busy taking credit for it. Only half the people believe it was an under-appreciated prank. But they looked at him, asking with their eyes if this was ok. He usually just nodded and turned away. 

Hermione didn’t believe he put his name in. She told him he should write Sirius right away. But then, she went back to her pre-goblet behavior. That is, polite but cool. She didn't defend him when Ron muttered about traitors, back stabbers, brother stealers, and cheaters. Thankfully Ron was still enough of a friend that he didn’t proclaim his Dark Wizard theories to the rest of Hogwarts. Or maybe he just didn’t want his brother in trouble.

Neville. Harry didn’t know what Neville thought. But since the goblet, Neville would often come sit near him. He wouldn’t talk, but it was honestly the most comforting thing anyone at Hogwarts had done lately.

* * *

“No!” Harry gasped. He shot up in bed, sweaty, panting, and so hot he felt like he was roasting. In his mind’s eye he could still see and feel flames eating him alive. It was the third dream so far this week where he dreamt he was burned. He never remembered what burned him or why. 

When he was describing it in his dream journal he gave his thoughts about what he thought it meant. 

His first guess was simple resentment for the Goblet of Fire ruining his life. It seemed a solid theory to him. Better yet, it was a theory he didn’t have to do anything about.

Another theory was just a simple, no reason, nightmare. Set off by talking about witches being burned alive in History of Magic, maybe. But this theory lacked substance since that had never given him nightmares before.

Lastly was the one, Trelawny was enthused about, but Harry was the most dubious of. A warning. It just sucked that after a year of predicting his death falsely, magic would send him dreams that actually predicted his death. 

But yesterday Trelawny asked something that put it in perspective. She asked what he was going to do about it. “Magic has given you a warning, Mr. Potter. Are you going to ignore it?”

So after showering and gathering his other school books Harry headed to the library. The problem was he didn’t know what kind of fire he was trying to defend against. The Fire Rose was a magical plant the spat fire balls when you tried to steal it’s flowers. There were entire books on the different type of fire spells. How to light candles, create balls of fire with no heat, wards that created a fire wall, curses that made your blood boil, and a really scary one called fiend fire that created creatures out the fire that most of the time escaped the caster’s control to rage until they ran out fuel. 

Then their were the actual creatures who were made of fire, breathed fire, were immune to fire, lived in fire, were born of fire… Harry felt helpless in the sheer volume of information on fire. 

He wished his dream was more specific. Was he going to mess up a potion and set himself on fire? Was Draco going to curse him? Did it have to do with the First Task? The last one scared him most. Unlike in the classroom or hallways, Harry was on his on his own in the task. Even Snape wouldn’t let him burn to death in the classroom. But in the tournament, no one was allowed to help him.

The biggest problem he was having is that for every form of fire in the magical world there was a protection or counter, but only for that one specific type of fire. All he wanted was some sort of all purpose fire shield. It wasn’t so much to ask for really. He found a spell to ward against strictly physical fires. Another to stop potions reactions from escaping the cauldrons. Which made him wonder why it wasn’t used all the time, but found out that you couldn’t effect the cauldron when he was under the spell. Which made it useless while you were actually working on the potion. He practiced it anyway. It would be good to know so he could cast it quickly in an emergency. 

There was one that protected against beast fire. But it was really limited. Basically it was like wearing gloves, then sticking your hand in a tub of acid. If you take the hand back out immediately you were probably fine. But the longer you left it, or the longer you were under fire, the faster it ate at your protection. You could recast it, but not while under fire. So if you have a dragon chasing you, you better get a breather to re-cast or well, you get very well done. Useless as it seemed, Harry studied this one as well. Hermione had talked in the great hall about the many deaths by creature during the tasks of the past. Something was better than nothing.

Finally when he found himself looking at the very specific defense needed for an african lizard the size of his hand he called it a day and moved on the his Ancient Runes study. At least with that he knew what he was looking for.

* * *

The next day, Sunday, Bill’s first letter since the goblet arrived.

_Harry_

_I have stared at this parchment for what seems like hours. I’m furious with Dumbledore. He must know you didn’t put your name in. If you’d simply asked an older student to enter your name into the contest you might have been chosen but it would have been as Hogwarts Champion, not a forth contestant. To be honest I don’t know how someone would go about getting a forth contestant. I’d have to look at the goblet itself. Though, I’m still pretty new as a curse breaker so even then I don’t know if I’d be able to tell. It could be as simple as telling the goblet you're from Salem Acadamy, and as the only contestant from Salem, you got chosen. But if the goblet had restrictions how many schools are allowed, you’d have to use powerful magic to override. This contest used to be huge. They had to have very, strict, powerful protections to keep the schools from cheating._

_Not that it really matters. From what I know about objects like it, once it made up it’s mind you’re bound. I don’t know if anyone has told you, but breaking a magical contract or oath is serious. The default repercussion is loss of magic. When writing the contract you can specify a lesser consequence, like money, or a greater one, like death, but if nothing is mentioned, it always defaults to magic. So I’m afraid you’re stuck Harry. I’m sorry._

_So let’s talk about your survival with your magic intact. I hinted in my last letter that I knew about the first task. That’s because of Charlie. The British Ministry of Magic contracted his reserve to bring three dragons to Hogwarts. I’ll assume they’ll bring in a forth now. Charlie complained that they wanted nesting mothers. Charlie loves his dragons, so he was extremely unhappy they wanted to endanger eggs. Not only that but have you ever heard the phrase, “Defended her children like a nesting dragon?” That’s because dragons are some of the fiercest and most dangerous creatures known, when defending their eggs._

_I’ve racked my brain to figure out what they plan to do but can’t think of anything. Dragons are a protected species. So many of their parts are important to potions and rituals that when they were hunted almost to extinction an international accord was made to protect them. Now only certified dragon reserves can sell dragon products. So you can’t be asked to kill them, or fight them. Capture one, maybe? But if they’re nesting they aren’t going to go anywhere. It doesn’t make any sense._

_In any case you need to learn how to protect yourself. Even if you don’t want to win, being roasted alive is no way to prove a point, Harry. So, first: if you have the money, buy dragon hide. Boots, gloves, cloak, shirt and pants. Make sure the cloak has a hood, one that you can pull down completely over your face. If you can only afford some of it, the cloak and pants will cover the most area, though they will also be the most expensive. Owl Eppy Scale in Diagon Alley. I assume you just got new robes from Madame Malkin? If so have Eppy get your measurements from her. She should get back to you with a quote before she begins._

_Second: Dragons don’t like the cold, but it doesn’t hurt them. Look up wide range cold spells. **Hiems** is a good one but might be too powerful for a forth year. It’s most often used by parents to make a snow day in the backyard. Cold will make the dragon more tired and less inclined to breath fire. Well, relatively. Don’t try any spells that freeze something. Dragon hide is practically impervious to spells. So whatever you do make it effect things around the dragon, either the air or the ground. Stay away from her claws or tails. The dragon hide will help, there is still the force behind them. _

_I’ll keep looking for spells to help, but I really just hope you won't need them. Though knowing the Ministry it’s something foolhardy like making the dragon fly you around the castle. Like a nesting mother would ever leave her eggs._

_As for Ron, I’m sorry. I’m sorry my parents keep him ignorant. I’m sorry money makes him an idiot. I’m sorry that having so many brothers makes him so jealous. But I’m not sorry I gave you that candle. I’m not sorry for being your friend. Thankfully I know my brother. He’s like a firecracker. Something sets him off, he reacts explosively, and even after the fireworks are done he has to cool down before you can approach him. And even then most of the time he feels guilty for exploding, but too prideful to do anything about it. Give him time and space. Eventually he’ll come around._

_I know the experience was overwhelmed by the Goblet but I was so happy too hear about your experience with the candle. I can’t even tell you. If you haven’t already done so, write it down. It's considered bad luck or bad form to use the candles too often, but I promise to get you another one next year._

_How’s the class switch going? Are you keeping up? I’m really good with both of those subjects so if you need help, I’m here. I hate that it takes so long to get and send these letters. I’m trying to think of everything you could need before the task because by the time I send this, you write back, then I write back, it will be over. I sometimes envy muggle phones. There’s the floo network but I don’t have a floo in my tent. And I always get a backache, kneeling like that. I guess it hasn’t been a priority to wizards. When you can apparate in the blink of an eye, fast communication doesn’t seem important I suppose. Maybe I’ll give it some thought myself._

_Good luck with the tournament, Harry. I know you’ll be fine._

_Bill_


	9. What To Do With A Dragon

Harry allowed himself five minutes, or maybe an hour, to panic, curse his life, and then moan about stupid unhelpful dreams. Then he got to work.

So Harry had a plan. Sort of. Thanks to Bill he at least had an objective. He had a fierce, deadly, momma dragon coming to kill him with the full support of his government. Great. But Bill gave him a place to start. So he did. He sent of the letter to Eppy Scale right away. Along with a letter to Gringotts to ask for an account balance, since while he thought the piles of gold in his vault would be plenty he wasn't actually sure. Especially when Bill implied they were extremely expensive. But he decided that if he had to spend every nut in there, it was better spent then him dead.

Next was the library again. He spent every spare hour there. First he looked up cold spells. Surprisingly, yesterday he hadn't come across any. You would think, when researching fire spells, cold ones would be a logical counter spell but he hadn't seen any. He found **Hiems** or the Winter Spell. It didn't seem too difficult, the word, wave your wand in an overhead circle, then a casting motion, reminiscent of fishing to Harry, at where you wanted your winter. Simple. Harry tried it... and got one single snow flake that melted before it hit the table. So the spell was easy, getting enough power and conviction behind it to slow down a dragon, not so much. He'd work on it. It was like the patronus spell. No one believed he had to power to do that either. 

Next he looked up armor spells. Spells that would protect him from physical impact. Bill wanted him to just avoid the claws, teeth and tail. Harry wanted to laugh at his naivety. If Harry's luck told him anything, it was that he was going to have to get up close and very personal with all three.

He actually found the rituals first. They were perfect! He could do a few runes, chant a few lines and poof, he'd be able to take a two tonne hit without a dent! Harry was very excited. Then he read the footnotes. Users of this ritual are unable to feel anything but the heaviest pressure, for the rest of their lives. He imagined never being able to feel anyone or anything touch him, no hugs, no pats on the back, no kisses... Harry emphatically put that book in his discard pile.

Non-permanent solutions were the way to go then. Unsurprisingly one of the first solutions mentioned was dragon hide. Nice to know the books agreed with Bill. He could make his clothes unbreakable, but then they'd by unmovable, not ideal when running from a dragon. He would try to find something better, but if this is all he has, what could he do with it? What clothing didn't move? He kept searching.

* * *

_Bill,_

_Thank you for telling me about the dragons. I think you probably saved my life. I've found a few spells now that I think will help. I can now get up a decent flurry inside a classroom with the Winter spell, but I'm still working up the power to give a dragon a chill._

_I've got the dragon hide ordered. Thankfully, according to the goblins, I have more than enough. I never realized just how much is in there. I'm actually really glad Ron doesn't know. Which is kinda weird because I don't care if you know, and you come from the same family. Maybe its because you were the one to tell me to go out and get the crazy expensive outfit for a one time event. But really why are you okay about money, but Ron is so explosive?_

_I'm going to make a quidditch helmet, shin and forearm guards unbreakable, and then cast cushioning charms on the rest. So if I'm thrown 50 yards by a swinging tail, at least I'll survive. I think._

_I had an interesting conversation will Mad Eye Moody. He hinted I should play to my strengths, and then went on about my quidditch career. Which yeah, I get he's telling me to fly but would that really help? The dragon can fly too, and I'm not trying to get away from the dragon. Though what I am trying to do still escapes me._

_I think I'm okay though. I'm not trying to win, just live. So. Thanks to you I think I'll do that. So thanks again._

Harry took a moment to think outside of everything dragon related. It had been so long since he'd written Bill and everything had been so serious lately.

_Is there a polite way to ask if someone is a traditionalist? Without you know, calling them a dark wizard or getting accused of being a dark wizard. See, there's a boy in my dorm. Every meal he takes away a sandwich. He's really quiet and I like him, but we're not really friends. I think sometimes we could be. And I'd like it if I had someone else to talk about this stuff with. Not that you haven't been great but someone less than hundreds of miles away would be good._

_Classes have been going fine I guess. I feel like I'm living in the library. And sometimes I have to picture Professor McGonagall's face when I told her I wanted to take two new classes. It was dubious and resigned. And when Hermione saw what I intended to do, she thought I wanted her to do it for me. Which, sucked. I'm not that bad of a student. It's been weeks and I haven't missed a deadline yet. I used to really like school you know. But, a my relatives aren't encouraging of academic performance. It's more complicated then that but I just learned to keep my head down and do just enough to get by. I can't believe I've never thought about it, but do my muggle relatives get report cards or anything? Does it matter that they're muggle? They don't like receiving owls._

_As for my other classes. Well those have been difficult too. Snape had been even more snide about my "Glory Seeking." He makes me so mad every time he opens his mouth. He hovers over me, growls at me when I'm trying to concentrate, insults me no matter what I do, it's so frustrating. Especially after I read that book about careers, you know? Practically every single career has to have at least a passing owl in potions. I've been trying harder lately, even with everything else going on but it still doesn't make sense. Why do I dice and not chop, what does it matter if I stir clockwise or in a figure eight?_

_I think the only teacher that likes me lately is Trelawny. Which is rather shocking really. But she's treated me well since..._

Harry's pen trailed off. He hadn't intended on telling Bill he'd taken his advice so literally. After all Bill had done for him lately he couldn't really believe Bill would laugh at him. He decided to be honest.

_...I erased all the previous fake entries in my dream journal. The first time I gave her the practically blank journal, I thought I'd get a failing grade for sure. But, she actually looked at me. Then she gave me advice and sent me on my way. No death threats or omens or anything. You have no idea how truly bizarre that was. But it was pretty cool too. Since the goblet she been almost impressed with me though. It seems I may have, possibly, been having prophetic dreams. Not that I can tell her that yet, not without telling her you told me about the dragons. But before you told me about them I'd been having a lot of dreams about fire. So... yeah._

_So the task is in less than a week. I guess you'll hear from me after._

_Harry_

* * *

Harry looked a the mini Hungarian Horntail in his hand. He couldn't help thinking he'd much rather have the little green one. Or you know, any dragon that didn't have dagger like spikes on its head, back and tail. At least he now knew why they wanted nesting mothers. Steal an egg from a dragon. No problem. Shit. 

He wiped his hands against his new leathers and tried to recapture his feelings from this morning.

_Harry knew he needed all the help he could get, so before the first task he was going to do something he'd never done before. He was going to do some dark magic. Sort of. Really he wished he knew something more than the Daily Thanks spell but since that is all that he knew that was what he was going to do._

_Grabbing breakfast from the great hall without sitting down, he went to an unused classroom and set up his offering. Taking half of everything and putting it to the side he felt his nervousness afresh. To be honest he couldn't really think of anything to be thankful for. Everyone hated him. But he shut his eyes and tried to think. Bill. He was so grateful that Bill had helped him. He'd been there for Harry in a way no one else ever had. He'd helped him. Given him harsh truths. Motivated him to be a better person, a better wizard. Shown him a side of magic he hadn't known. Magic. That was something else he was thankful for. Without magic he would still be at the Dursley's. Magic had saved him, given him power, made him special and not a freak._

_Keeping these thoughts in his mind he touched his wand to the plate. He watched for the first time as magic took his offerings. Unlike what he imagined there was no flame. The food crumbled to ashes and then slowly disappeared leaving only the faint wisp of smoke. It was quiet and not at all flashy. He liked it. But even more he liked the whoosh of energy that flared in him. If felt like a full nights rest, then waking up to a beautiful summer morning. He felt...good. He smiled._

Harry's thought's were broken into by a sharp whistle and Bagman announcing, "Harry Potter!" He'd missed all three of the other contestants leaving. Bloody Hell.

The dragon was even bigger than he had imagined. She stood and prowled around her eggs, watching the crowd in the newly made stands. When she saw him step on the field, she growled, her lips raising to show her teeth in warning.

Harry clumsily drew his wand from his new holster and incanted, _"Hiems!"_ In the classroom he'd been getting a fairly respectable snow storm when he'd practiced. Of course he'd been in an enclosed, controlled environment. He didn't expect to get that kind of result now. But he had expected more than the five snowflakes that spat in the dragon's face like a sneeze. The dragon roared. Harry gulped.

Seeing a group of trees near the edge of the clearing he ran to them hoping for some breathing room to concentrate. Taking deep breaths he cast the beast fire protection. Then he added to the cushioning charms to his cushioning charms. He was just about to try the winter spell again when the trees caught fire. 

He ran from the trees. He saw a bowling ball sized rock a little to the left and ten yards away. Quickly he began to cast, _"Engorgio!"_ , again and again til he reached it and it was large enough to crouch behind. He did his best to ignore the continuing roars of the dragon, the rock heating at his back, and the grass burned on either side. He needed to cool this dragon down. He could do this. He'd practiced! 

The fire let up. Taking his chance he stood and cast, _"Hiems!"_ again. This time was better. A flurry of snow was now between him and the dragon, dumping white flakes that melted as they touched the freshly burned ground. It was better but not really good enough. He needed to get closer and he needed it stronger.

He crept along the edge of the clearing, engorging rocks when possible, and levitating previously engorged rocks when there wasn't one near by. An unforeseen side affect in his favor was the mixture of steam and snow. It created almost a solid wall of white cold fog. Harry could hardly see the dragon, and only the knowledge that she would never leave the nest, kept him confident enough to head in the same direction. He could only hope her vision was equally impeded. 

Every time he cast the winter spell the snow increased and gradually the roars of fire decreased. He peeked out from behind his latest hide-a-rock. He could see her large black shape, close enough he was easily in range of her pointy, lethal tail. She was feeling lethargic by now, but not sleepy. He began to hope he could pull this off. He was so tired. The winter spell took a lot of energy, and he'd cast it over a dozen times now. But the Horntail was watching the far right, puffing smoke as if waiting for him to pop up.

Cautiously he crawled towards the nest. 15 feet. 10 feet. Her tail twitched. 5 feet. He could see which egg was golden. It was lying at the edge of the nest. 

**SMACK!**

Harry was flying but not in a good way. Horntail's tail smacked him to the other side of the clearing and against the stands. He felt where the spikes had tried to penetrate his dragon hide. And he felt where one spike, positioned just right, slipped under his hood and sliced his neck like a blade. Then it was gone and he was crushed against the wooden stands. He spared a thought to be very grateful for the cushioning charms, because although he was winded and most definitely bruised, his body felt intact, and not crushed to powder. Instinctively his hand went to his bleeding neck. The wound felt huge, and his hand was covered in blood. But he could still breathe. Coughing into his other hand, no blood came up. So probably just superficial. Harry's legs went weak. That was far too close. 

"...judges are convening to determine if Mr. Potter requires medical attention," Bagman was saying. They were the first words that Harry had registered since he'd left the tent. _No_ , Harry thought, but couldn't bring himself to say. _I almost had it!_ Grimly he grabbed the red Hogwarts jersey they'd made him wear and used his wand to slice off the bottom 3 inches. Flipping his hood back he wrapped it tightly around his neck to stop the bleeding. It was far from perfect. He still had to breathe so he couldn't do it as tight as he probably should. 

On shaky legs he stood. "Look at that! Harry Potter isn't beaten yet..." Bagman's inane babble faded from his mind. The dragon watched him. Taking deep breaths he thought of last year, watching Sirius and his younger self surrounded by dementors. He gripped his wand in his blood covered hand and cast, **_"HIEMS"_** and shot the spell like a spear at the dragon. A blizzard erupted. In seconds nothing was visible.

With more calm then he felt he staggered back to the dragon. He didn't bother with hiding, everything was white, and he could feel his energy draining from him like water into the storm. The only reason he knew where the dragon was, was because she was whining pitifully in confusion. He didn't know why the dragon didn't burn the snow away, but he was grateful. Belatedly, he wondered if the cold would hurt the real eggs, but he realized it was too late to worry about it. Hopefully, Charlie wouldn't kill him if he survived this. 

He actually tripped over the nest, which was a mite embarrassing. Good thing no one could see him. Reaching down he felt the eggs, and knew immediately which was which. The real eggs feel chalky and warm. The golden egg was cold and smooth. He hefted it and carefully walked away, expecting another spike in his back any minute. It never came.

When he reached the tent again he stopped feeding the storm and immediately staggered. It felt like he'd been carrying one of his engorged boulders, and had just put it down. He ached and felt dizziness almost overwhelm him. Thankfully Madame Pomfrey was there. She threw one of arms over her shoulder and dragged him to a waiting bed. Muttering about fool Headmasters and dragons of all things. He was too tired to even thank her. He was also too tired to notice that the blood that had coated his hand and wand was gone.

He was going to sleep for a week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefuly the First Task lives up to my two years worth of anxiety over it.


	10. In The Hospital Wing

Harry wasn't even aware when they moved him from the grounds up to the Hospital Wing. He would learn later that he was magically exhausted and had burnt his magical channels. He hadn't even known what a magical channel was.

Magical channels were the gateways between a wizard's body, and the energy around them. Hogwarts was a magic rich environment. Any place where magical beings live or visit frequently, always is. Under normal circumstances, Harry would get a good night's sleep and would be at least replenished enough to be about his business.

That wasn't the case this time. Madame Pomfrey was very firm on his restrictions. He was on bed rest for, at least!, a week. He wasn't allowed to do any magic, his wand was locked in Pomfrey's office. He was told to sleep, a lot. When he complained she explained to him, just what he'd done to himself.

"You took in the magic too quickly. You'd already spent most of your body's capacity already. You may be a little firework, but you are still growing my lad." She waved her wand and an image appeared over his bed. A pipe with liquid flowing quickly and easily through. The water didn't even fill the pipe. "This is how your body normally takes in magic." She flicked her wand. The pipe was abruptly filled, then cracked open. The magic seemed to still flow on to it's destination but more flowed up and around the pipe and... Harry looked closer, the magic was eating at the pipe from the outside. "Then, instead of realizing your mistake, you just shoved it back out again. It's burned your magic channels both ways. If you hadn't stopped the magic would have continued to damage your channels. Honestly, I don't understand how you did this to yourself. It takes a lot of Will to force magic into yourself, beyond your channels' capacity to hold safely."

When he was slammed to the wall, he'd known he was exhausted. He hadn't realized that it was magical as well as physical. But his body had known, and when he'd readied himself for one more big spell, he'd reached out to the abundant energy around him and yanked. 

"It's amazing you didn't collapse from the pain. But you didn't, because you have no self-preservation, and decided to do it again, in reverse! Pain, Harry, is your body telling you to stop." Her words were slow, almost sarcastic, and if Harry had to guess, she wanted to say something more about his lack of intelligence. He didn't remember it hurting, though. The adrenalin probably numbed him. Over the week, she had many opportunity to make up for her silence. She was firm that he not do something so foolish, reckless, and dangerous ever again. 

What it came down to, is that, until his burnt channels healed, he shouldn't take in magic to replace all of the magic he'd spent. So he was given a magic inhibitor potion. Any magic he did before healing would only damage them further. The physical injuries, the bruises, two cracked ribs, and the cut to his throat were all healed in hours. The throat wound, a serious, life threatening injury on a muggle, left barely a scar. A new thin line ran from just to the left of his adam's apple to two inches below his left ear. It wasn't even noticeable if you didn't know it was there. When he looked in the mirror he could hardly believe it was so small.

* * *

The first time he'd woken though, was not to Madame Pomfrey. 

"Harry! Harry c'mon. Wake up," an unfamiliar voice whispered. A hand was gently shaking his shoulder. 

Harry groggily opened his too dry eyes to see...Ron? No Fred? No. He blinked rapidly. Charlie. Huh? His mind was too slow. He couldn't figure out what Charlie Weasley was doing at Hogwarts in his dorm. Then he took in his surroundings. He was in the Hospital Wing. 

"There you are! Mate, you sure had me worried!" Charlie seemed to be checking Harry's forehead, then his eyes for tracking, but he looked relieved. Satisfied he leaned back in the uncomfortable visitor's chair. Harry wanted to look behind him, to see who Charlie was talking to. 

Harry spoke the amazingly articulate, "What?" in response. 

Charlie chuckled. "Blimey mate, you blow everyone's expectations. Nice one with the Winter spell. It's what I would have used, not that nasty Conjunctivitis curse, Krum used. We lost three eggs! Three! Not that I would have been able to do the Winter spell when I was 14. Blew everyone away, that last one did, felt like a visit from an ice drake. What could the judges do after that but give you top marks? Well not completely. Karkaroff gave you a truly pathetic score, the scum." He finally seemed to slow his speech enough to notice Harry was only following half his conversation.

"So, how are you doing, Harry? Pomfrey isn't allowing visiters, but I snuck in when she went to get lunch. I can't stay long enough for her to get over her mothering. I've got to help get the dragons back to the preserve but I wanted to check on you. Mum and Bill won't stop pestering me. Bill wanted me to give you the Secrets of Dragon Taming. Which, there isn't any. And he knows that. Stupid git. If I'd tried to even give you tips though, I might have been fired. Not to mention, the Goblet might have found you in breach of contract." Charlie looked like he was trying to apologize or something, so Harry nodded vaguely.

"Mum's even worse though, if you can believe it. Goes on and on, 'He still cries for his parents, I never knew! The poor dear!' Mum's a bit of a sucker for the Daily Prophet. I'm sorry about that. I tried to tell her that no 14 year old boy would confess that load a dung to a reporter, She just told me that you must be a very sensitive boy. .... Are you a very _sensitive_ boy, Harry?" This last question he seemed to actually expect an answer. Because he finally, finally stopped talking. But he was smirking wickedly.

Knowing he was being goaded, Harry still couldn't help being outraged, "No! I could murder Skeeter for the lies she told."

His words were as fierce as a kitten's claws.

Charlie laughed, "I thought so. I'll try again to convince Mum. Don't think it will help. You'll probably be her _fragile_ boy for a while."

Charlie continued to chat, not saying anything important. But Harry found it comforting. He didn't have any energy to respond and found himself drifting in a pleasant haze, enjoying the gossip. 

Suddenly a tiny american voice spoke up from Charlie's robe collar. "Charlie, where the hell are you, dude? We need you ten minutes ago." An equally tiny roar was heard. "Shit! Charlie!" Harry looked closer at the collar and saw a tiny metal dragon pinned there. It was swishing it's tail back and forth in agitation. Charlie meanwhile was wincing, and gathering up his discarded cloak. His hand lifted to touch the moving pin, "Jack, I'm on my way. Sorry I got distracted with family business." He let go, and sighed. 

Standing up, Charlie looked around, then walked to Pomfrey's desk. He tapped a parchment with his wand, which then floated to be level with his head. He spoke to it, "Fred, George, Ron, Ginny. I'll be leaving shortly. I want to see you before I go. Please come down to the arena. I have to help pack up the dragons for travel but I should have a little while after that to chat. Charlie." He tapped the parchment again, and it glowed briefly, then it split into four different parchments, and they turned into paper airplanes and zoomed from the room.

Charlie came back to the bed where Harry was trying to look awake. "Sorry Harry, gotta run. No worries though, I'll tell Bill you were bravely heroic, and that his little pen pal will be just fine." He winked and ruffled Harry's hair. 

He was gone before Harry could even say goodbye. Harry was asleep again before he could even blink twice.

* * *

The next day, after Madame Pomfrey had given him her scolding and restrictions, he woke to Hermione and Ron on either side of his bed. Hermione was quietly holding his hand and reading from a thick tome. Ron was steadily working his way through Harry's get well candy.

Harry cleared his throat and they both snapped their heads toward him. 

"Oh Harry!" Hermione exclaimed and smothered him in her bushy brown hair as she gave him a hug. "I'm so glad you're okay. That dragon was awful. I don't know what they were thinking." She finally let go and relaxed back into her chair. 

"Yeah, mate. I mean you were pretty brilliant, but I thought you were dead at least a dozen times. Madame Pomfrey says you'll be alright but, she didn't keep any of the other champions more than a few minutes. You sure you're okay?" Ron asked.

Harry blinked. He looked between them expecting... something. But then he realized what he was missing. They had forgiven HIM, because he had almost died. Obviously any wrong doing on their parts would also be forgiven for the same reasons. In their minds, everything was now alright. Harry had been the one most in the wrong, consorting with the evil, dark wizard Bill. They didn't need to apologize. Maybe they were right. If they had apologized, he knew he would have forgiven them.

It had been an awful, lonely month. They'd left him to fend for himself. Ron had called him all sorts of things. But they'd been worried about him when a large, fire breathing, dragon tried to roast him. Did that make it all better? 

Harry wanted to be angry. Say he didn't need their friendship. Didn't need them. And he didn't. He knew he could get along with out them. But Harry was tired of fighting. Fuck, he was exhausted. He sighed. 

The silence stretched. He'd lost track of what they were saying. "I'll um, I'll be fine," he said reluctantly.

He wouldn't forget. But maybe he could let it go. He could tell them he wanted an apology, but it would either be a fake apology or start the whole argument again. Even if they apologized, he didn't think it would be worth it. He'd missed them so much, he didn't want to go on as he'd been.

He smiled softly. "I'll be ok. I'm just so tired." They smiled back, having no idea how disappointed he was. He didn't know what the future of his friendship with them looked like, but if felt changed.

* * *

Day three he'd been awake for most of the day, even if he was too tired to do more than go to the bathroom. At least Pomfrey wasn't whisking away his waste with magic anymore. That had been humiliating. 

In the period before lunch, Ron came in. It was his free period. He looked rather strained. He sat down and began flipping a roll of parchment between his fingers. 

"Hey Harry," he said, his voice subdued.

"Hey Ron, what's up?"

Ron opened his mouth and closed it several times. He seemed more frustrated with himself each time he failed to say anything.

"Why do you write my brother?" Ron blurted, finally.

Harry blinked in confusion. He hadn't expected this to be about Bill, but he didn't know what he had expected. Harry relaxed into his pillows and thought about it. He ignored Ron's fidgeting. 

"He's... different. Or he treats me different. He's a friend, but also a teacher? Not about dark magic, though the subject has come up, but about wizarding things in general. And he doesn't treat me like The Harry Potter. I know you guys don't mean to. No one even realizes they'er doing it but, you expect things. You expect me to be adventurous and daring. Others assume I'm spoiled. To Bill, its like I'm like any other muggle raised wizard. He explains things, and he doesn't mind my questions. 

"When I ask you or Hermione you both look at me like I should know already. Hermione who is just as muggle raised as me! Though sometimes I think Hermione just thinks she knows the answer, but because she got the answer from a book, she gets it all wrong. Like that fucked up mess with S.P.E.W. 

"But really, Ron, it's not a mystery. He's a friend. I like talking to him, telling him my problems. I like it when he tells me the cool things he's doing. And the candle I tried to tell you about, Ron? It was one of the coolest presents I've ever gotten." Harry bit his lip, feeling stupidly emotional just discussing it. He hurried on. "I mean, no one has ever... My muggle relatives told me they died in a drunken accident! So, yeah, being able to connect with them, mourn them. It was... it just was! Okay?" Harry turned his face away from Ron. He waited then for Ron's mocking laughter.

Arms wrapped around Harry and Ron's face was wet against his neck. "Shit, mate. I'm so sorry. I should'a been a better mate." Harry's own eye's teared. Discussing the candle had brought his emotions to the fore. Now he was relieved that Ron didn't laugh at him. But mostly he was just happy that Ron, finally, really, felt like his best friend again.

A few minutes later they separated. It was awkward, and neither mentioned the tears as they quickly swiped them away. Ron changed the subject clumsily by talking about the other champions and their go at their dragons. He didn't seem to know who to cheer for, other than Harry. Fleur had captured Ron at first lust, Krum was his quidditch hero, and Cedric was Hogwarts champion. 

They'd settled back comfortably and were discussing if Krum should have lost more points for killing the eggs, when Ron seemed to remember he had a crumpled parchment in his hand. He sheepishly gave it to Harry.

"I...um. I. I read it. I just wanted to know, you know? He's my brother. I guess I've been kinda jealous." Ron rubbed the back of his neck.

Harry, knowing now what it was, opened his letter from Bill.

_Harry,_

_I hope you're alright. I've asked my supervisor twice if I could have the day off. Relflat just tells me to get back to work. You, kind of, have to be dying to get an unscheduled day off around here. So I'll just have to send my best wishes and good luck. It sounds like you have a solid plan in place at least. I wish there was more I could do._

_Of course you're guardians get reports on how you're doing. Every quarter they get a status update. Lets them know if they're kid is top of the class, bottom of the barrel, struggling with a subject, doing better in the practicals, that sort of thing. Haven't your relatives talked to you about them? Mum and Dad always get them by owl, of course. But if your guardians don't like getting owls, I'm sure the school was accommodating and sends them by muggle post. You never talk about your family. Neither does Ron for that matter. Are they very strict? Is that why you're worried? But if they are, why wouldn't they want you to do well academically? Or are they more into physical pursuits? Ron says you're magic on a broom. I want to see you play. Did you play a muggle sport then? If you wanted I'm sure Professor McGonagall could give you copies of your reports. The student's Head of House is in charge of all communications with families._

_Keep going with your extra classes. I'm so happy that you chose the path best for you, and not just the easiest road. I know it's hard, but I have faith you can do it. I'm sure McGonagall knows it too. She's gotta be under a lot of pressure with the Tri-wizard tournament. She's usually really supportive of students making class changes. You probably just caught her in a bad moment._

_You had real premonitions about a future event! I'm amazed Harry. I thought with the damage you'd done it would be ages before you saw anything. You must have incredible ability. I didn't expect you to erase all that work but I'm glad you did. You apparently impressed Magic as well. Will you tell me if you see anything else? I told you, I have no ability myself, but I'm very curious about the subject._

_I'd sympathize about Snape, but I'm sure Ron does plenty of that already. I know plenty about what a huge git he is from him. He didn't seem that bad when I was there. He was strict and mean, but what you two describe is just, petty._

_I wish I could tell you how to become a potions master, unfortunately, I barely got an acceptable Newt. I'm not very good. I know enough to get by. And enough to know when I need to get a real potions expert. You could get yourself a tutor. Put a notice on the Gryffindor message board, saying you'll pay a sickle per lesson. You're bound to get a few bites. You could do that for any of your subjects really. Keep it in mind if you get stuck with Ancient Runes or Arithmancy._

_I guess since I've brought up money though I should talk about the subject I've been avoiding. Why is Ron so sensitive about money? I don't know. I know that when I was growing up it was very different. I was first born. I had the first and best of everything. If Charlie got my hand me downs, he generally didn't mind. I took care of my things, which helped. Also I was the first to go to Hogwarts. I don't know if your guardians mentioned it, but Hogwarts costs a great deal. Whatever Ron thinks or has giving you the impression of, the Weasley's aren't poor. Or they wouldn't be if they didn't have so many children in school. I guess that's part of Ron's resentment. He probably has dreams of being an only child. To me, the thought of not having even one of my siblings is awful. Not that Ron doesn't love all of us, you and I both know that's not the case. But Mum and Dad currently have four children going to Hogwarts. They had five last year. That lottery must have seemed like a miracle._

_Mum and Dad could be much more comfortable, if they were willing to sacrifice their children's futures. Not everyone goes to Hogwarts, or even a wizarding school in general. It's old family wizarding prejudice but you can have all the outstanding NEWTs in the world, and you won't get anywhere without a reputable school's name attached._

_People homeschool for many reasons, money being primary. If you ask Pennyworth Parkinson why someone would homeschool he'd say, "The poor fools are trying to hide a squib." Or something like. It's a common belief among the old purebloods. Mostly because it's the only reason they would have for homeschooling._

_My longwinded point is that Mum and Dad only want the best for us. Ron might feel the pinch when he can't have new brooms or new robes. But he'll be able to apply where ever his ambitions lead him someday. I just wish he had more ambitions. He seems to think because one of us have already done something, its no longer worth doing._

_He'll figure it out someday I hope. He's the smartest one of us, when he can concentrate. He stopped playing chess against us years ago, said it was harder playing himself, we were too easy to predict._

_As for your friend, or potential friend, I'm sorry to say there is no password or secret handshake. You'd probably be best off just getting him alone and being honest. Say you've met a friend who's a traditionalist, and you wondered if he might know someone at school who was also a traditionalist. Don't ask if he practices dark magic. Telling someone you don't completely trust that you're a dark wizard, is asking the aurors to come and get you. If he tells you he isn't a traditionalist. I'd ask you not to push. He might be lying but it's his decision to reveal that to you._

_I asked Charlie to keep an eye on you while he's there. Hopefully he's not annoying you too badly._

_Good luck, and hopefully I'll talk to you soon._

_Bill_

Harry rolled the letter back up and put it on the bedside. There was so much he wanted to think about in that letter but now wasn't the time. Ron was still sitting there, anxiously waiting for Harry to say something.

Harry thought about being angry about Ron's invasion of his privacy. If the letter had held anything more sensitive he probably would be unable to help himself. But he looked at Ron again, and was able to completely squash the idea.

Ron looked out the window like it was suddenly fascinating. Harry guessed he could understand. Bill had been a little too bluntly honest about their family situation, and Ron's character, to be comfortable for Ron. Ron's own tears made a little more sense now. Worse, he expected Harry to agree. _You'd rather have fancy robes than have your sister? You'd rather the twins weren't around so you could have a broom?_ To be sure, Ron probably did wish those things, sometimes, and not seriously. Especially when Ginny got special treatment for being the only girl, or the twins played a nasty trick on him, or Percy was being his sanctimonious self. But if someone offered a million galleons for even just one of Ron's siblings, Harry knew which one Ron would pick. It wouldn't be the gold. 

"Hey Ron, I'm going to say something that Bill said to me. Then I won't bring this letter up again. Okay?" Harry paused. Ron had tensed as if expecting a blow. "I know you. And I know you can do better." Harry wanted to add to that, talk about how smart Ron was, how great a friend, but it felt like too much pressure.

Instead it reached to his bedside table and grabbed his exploding snap deck. "Do you wanna play a game?" And that was the end of it. At least for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone thinks, that Charlie's dragon pin sounds familiar....you are probably right. I borrowed the concept from Star Trek's communicator. I wanted a short range mostly hands free way of communicating on the preserves. They aren't going to grab a quill and parchment when they need to call for help, nor is there convenient floos. I figure it's a mix of the mirror and Hermione's coins.


End file.
